


Challenge

by 8lapetitehirondelle8



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8lapetitehirondelle8/pseuds/8lapetitehirondelle8
Summary: “Have you ever known Hammond to back down from a challenge?”





	Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> **TONIGHT:** Jeremy proposes a wager, Richard takes him up on it, and James tells them both off.
> 
> **If you read nothing else, please read this part of the notes or you might get a bit confused.**  
>  The Royal National Theatre in London is one large building housing three theatres within it: the Olivier, the Lyttleton, and the Dorfman (formerly the Cottesloe). You learned a thing! :D
> 
> **TL:DR**  
>  This fic started as an exercise in tropes. You’ll recognise the She Cleans Up Nicely trope as the predominant one. The Tomboy trope and the Wrench Wench trope make appearances as well, and, of course, I made my own little additions here and there. This was originally a much harsher and more moralistic story, but it has undergone an epic transformation (at the ~~frequent spankings from~~ gentle proddings of my beta) and as a result it’s become a much more rounded narrative, and though it strayed from my original concept by miles, I think it’s better for it.
> 
> All pubs mentioned in this fic are real pubs, including the one with the rude name. (Consult Urban Dictionary for a definition, please, there might be children reading this.) (Of course, now the children know where to look it up.) (Fuck it. It’s a euphemism for lady parts. You’ll know it when you find it in the story.)
> 
> The song quoted in its entirety is [Human](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbi8xPo3psA) by the Pretenders.
> 
> This would not be what it is without the tireless efforts of [pippinmctaggart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart). I have the best beta… in the world.

**Challenge**

The three of them were tucked away in a back booth at a pub on the south bank. They were in the final throes of a season, just two more studio shows to go, and they had decided to hole up somewhere different this Friday afternoon. Somewhere away from the rest of the normal group, just to get a little space. The White Hart was an older pub, all worn wood and leather and dust, and its beer offerings ran enough of the gamut to appeal to all three of them— _might-as-well-be-water_ for Richard and Jeremy, and _has-twigs-in_ for James. They were well into their second round when Jeremy started to get that glimmer about him, the one that meant he was about to come out with something ridiculous that would probably end very, very badly for at least one of them.

“Oh Christ, he’s thinking. James, make him stop thinking!”

“Clarkson,” James said, thumping his head against the leather of the booth backrest, “stop thinking. Bad things happen when you do that.”

“Do you remember the last time he thought?” Richard asked. “We ended up in the river. In bright yellow coveralls. Holding a scale model of the Royal Pavilion made of sugar!”

“That model, I’ll have you know, was the work of _weeks_.” James grumbled, and took another pull of his pint. “I still haven’t forgiven either of you for that.”

“Oi, that’s not fair! It wasn’t _my_ fault.”

“You egged him on.”

“When you’ve finished, ladies,” Jeremy said with an air of exasperation.

James and Richard responded with a simultaneous, “Shut up!”

“Shan’t. Anyway, you’ll like this idea.”

“Won’t.” replied Richard petulantly.

“Will,” said Jeremy, taking a drink. He’d noticed the woman as soon as she’d walked in. She was tiny, overwhelmed in baggy utility trousers and a hoodie at least two sizes too big for her. She had china doll features, and her dark hair piled up on top of her head created a stark contrast to the paleness of her face—a rather attractive contrast, actually. The poor thing looked half dead on her feet, but the way she’d immediately set to working once she’d gotten her drink and settled at a table spoke to a level of determination. She’d sparked a notion for Jeremy—he’d been trying to get Hammond back onto the dating circuit since his last girlfriend had left him rather abruptly for a member of the Welsh rugby team, but he’d had no success at all. Perhaps if he made it a challenge, Richard would rise to the bait. It was worth a try, anyway. Jeremy set his pint down and cocked an eyebrow towards the table in the furthest back corner of the pub. “See her? In the corner?” Richard and James took turns looking around as unnoticeably as possible. Once they’d both looked, Jeremy continued, “Hammond, I’ve got a hundred quid that says you can’t make her presentable enough to hang onto your arm at the wrap party.”

“You really are a bastard, Clarkson, you know that, don’t you?” James said.

“Hardly,” Jeremy scoffed.

“I dunno,” mused Richard. “I reckon there’s less work to be done than you’d think. Maybe she just had a rushed morning?”

“I can’t believe the two of you. I’m going for a piss, and then I’ll buy my round, and by the time I get back you had better be talking about something else.” James heaved himself up out of the booth and stalked off.

Richard turned to Jeremy. “What’re the terms of the wager, then?”

Jeremy thought for a moment, tapping a beer mat on the table. “Right, how about this? The full _Eliza Doolittle_. She’s got to be well scrubbed up and on best behaviour.”

Richard considered the woman at the table for a moment. She wasn’t doing anything to draw attention to herself. In fact, Richard doubted he’d have noticed her at all if Jeremy hadn’t first. She was just sitting with a drink, working on something in a binder, occasionally chewing the end of her biro as she thought. He turned back to Jeremy and said, “She could be an all around lovely person, you know.”

“Then it’ll be all the easier, won’t it? You’ll have two weeks to concentrate on looks alone if she is. Though God only knows what terrors lurk under that hoodie. I mean, where did she even get that thing? She’s bloody swimming in it!” Jeremy had an abrupt thought and nearly choked on a sip of beer as he said, “Oh, and you’ve got to work with what’s already there. No permanent alterations!”

“Permanent alterations?!” Richard repeated, flustered.

“You’re not allowed to buy her a pair of tits. If she hasn’t got any, too bad,” Jeremy declared.

Richard shook his head. “Can I get a closer look before I agree to this?”

“Oh, go on then. I’m in the giving vein today.”

Richard stood up and took a step towards the bar but had a thought and turned around. “No wager if she’s married or otherwise attached.”

“I will accept that stipulation.”

“James was wrong. You’re only _half_ a bastard.”

“Only half? I must be losing my touch,” Jeremy said, affronted.

“Two-thirds, then,” Richard allowed.

“Better. Now off you pop and have your closer look before I change my mind.” Jeremy flapped a hand at him, shooing him away.

Richard flipped him two fingers and moved to the bar, ordering himself another lager and _one of whatever she’s having_ , which turned out to be neat bourbon. Drinks in hand, he moved to the corner table. The woman looked up when he got closer, eyeing him warily. Richard set the bourbon down on the table and said, “I’m led to understand this is your poison.”

“You understand correctly,” she said.

“May I join you?” He rather thought she’d know who he was, at least, and it was therefore doubtful that she would find him threatening.

She shrugged. “If you like.”

Richard sat and motioned to the binder the woman was working out of. “You’ve been poking away at that for a while.”

“My interns couldn’t keep track of their own heads if they weren’t attached to their bodies,” she sighed. “There’s no consistency to their notes. It’s no wonder we can never find anything.”

“We have that same problem, only it’s usually James who’s gone missing and not, erm, whatever it is yours have lost?”

“Lighting equipment. I head up the lighting division of the technical department over at the National Theatre. Lex Adams.” She offered a hand.

“Richard Hammond.”

“Needs no introduction.” Lex gave him a half a smile.

Richard was relieved to see her relax a little. “Is Lex short for something?”

“Yes.”

“And that would be?”

“Something Lex is short for.”

“Ah.” She was guarded for sure, but Richard was confident in his ability to get past that. He leaned in and in a theatrical whisper said, “You probably didn’t know this, but Richard’s not short for anything.”

“No, according to rumor he’s just short,” Lex deadpanned.

Richard groaned and rested his head on the table but it wasn’t long before he was laughing. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“A bit.” Lex smirked and took a drink.

“The National, eh? This must be your local, then?”

“My work-local, yeah. Though it might as well be my proper local. I practically live at the theatre.”

By this time, Richard had decided that Clarkson needed stronger lenses—Lex wasn’t bad looking at all. Dark hair and darker eyes, features defined without being sharp, and the shape of her face indicated to him that she was probably quite small-framed, though it was difficult to tell under the oversized hoodie. She had an aura of overwork about her and that could easily be corrected with a decent night’s sleep. _Lemon-squeezy, this bet_ , Richard thought. “That must get a bit overwhelming,” he said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

Lex just shrugged. “What brings you three down here, anyway? As far as I’m aware we’re nowhere near where you lot film, and there aren’t any Ferrari dealerships nearby.”

Richard chuckled. “Sometimes you just need a change of scenery. For what it’s worth, I’m glad we chose this pub. I’ve found something worth looking at.”

“Johnno puts a lot of effort into keeping this place up, that’s for sure,” Lex said. “It’s over a hundred years old, you know.”

She’d been doodling in the margins of a page in her binder when Richard had played his card and it clearly hadn’t registered with her the way he’d intended. His timeline was short, though, and he knew if he wanted to win this wager he’d need to be even more blatant. “You know, I’ve got something on down this way Monday afternoon that ought to finish up by about this time. Could I meet you here afterwards, maybe? Drinks and so forth?”

Lex looked up from her doodle at him, her eyebrows nearly flying off her face. “You _are_ talking to Lola, right?”

“Who?” Richard asked, completely flummoxed.

Lex pointed to the framed poster of a pin-up girl hanging on the wall above her. “Lola.”

“Oh. No, actually, I was talking to you.” He smiled, putting his perfect teeth to good use.

Lex gave him a hard look. “If you like, then, fine. I’ll probably be here anyway.”

“Great! I’ll let you get back to it, then. Looks like May managed to find his way back from the gent’s without getting lost.” Richard stood up to head back to Jeremy and James, then turned back to Lex, saying, “Can I get your number in case I’m delayed or anything like that?”

“Just call the theatre and ask for me, they always know where I am,” Lex replied smoothly.

_Okay, maybe not quite lemon-squeezy, but when have you ever backed down from a challenge_? Richard thought. He pulled out his wallet and handed Lex a card. “Well, there’s mine, anyway, in case you get stuck bollocking your interns.”

“That’s always a possibility.” Lex smiled. “Thanks for the drink.”

Richard winked at her and sauntered back to James and Jeremy. James was looking at him in disgust. Jeremy was positively squirming in his seat.

“Well?!”

Richard sat down and was about to confirm his part of the bet, but they were interrupted by a sudden flurry of activity from Lex’s direction. She had stood up, mobile clutched between her ear and shoulder, and was stuffing the binder into her messenger bag. Whoever she was speaking to, it was apparent they were for it when she saw them next because though her voice was low and controlled, it cut like glass. “You’d better have got started sorting that out by the time I make it back, and if I find _one single cable_ out of place, you’re spending your weekend in the Olivier hand-polishing _every. Single. Lens_.”

She stormed past their table, giving Richard a cursory wave as she did, and disappeared out the front door.

Jeremy rubbed his hands together and gloated, “Oooooooh! She’s going to chop your bollocks off, fricassee them, and serve them to you _on toast_ ! She’s a _terror_ ! You’re for it, man, face it. If I were you, I’d concede defeat before I attempted to make _that_ fit for human consumption!”

That raised Richard’s hackles even though he knew full well that Jeremy was winding him up so that he’d take the bet out of sheer stubbornness. He sat up ramrod straight in his chair, looked Jeremy dead in the eye, extended his hand and said, “Hundred quid.”

“I’ll start shopping for new driving gloves tonight, then, shall I?” Jeremy crowed as they shook hands.

James said, more to his beer than his friends, “I still hate both of you.”

*******

Lex hadn’t exactly taken Richard’s offer of drinks on Monday as genuine, so when he rolled into the pub and flopped down at her table, pint in hand, she was surprised.

“Hiya. Got started without me?” Richard motioned to Lex’s half-finished drink.

“I didn’t honestly think you were serious,” she said, clearing away the papers she was working on to make more room on the table top.

“That’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“I think it was a perfectly realistic assumption, actually. You must have several thousand better things to do with your time than sit here with me. I’m led to understand that you’re a very busy man.” Lex took a sip of her drink, eyeing Richard as she did.

He eyed her back. “I will admit to being busy, but I’m nothing if not a man of my word. Besides, I want to hear how the intern-bollocking turned out!”

“Let’s just say that the lenses in the Olivier are very, very clean today.” Lex grinned.

Richard grinned back. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“All my sides are bad.”

Richard cocked his head. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

The sincerity in his voice caught Lex off guard and she choked a bit on her drink, coughing. Richard’s brow furrowed and he leaned towards her, hand out to pat her back, but she waved him away, regaining control of her breathing. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other for a minute. Lex wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. Richard Hammond, of all people, had chatted her up. It didn’t make sense. Lex wasn’t sure what type she was, but she was certain she wasn’t _his_ type. _Face it, Lex, you’re not anyone’s type. Not looking the way you do, anyway_ . Still, here he was. She couldn’t deny the fact that he was occupying space at her table, sitting there being immensely attractive. _Dear The Universe_ , Lex thought, _You’re either a complete bastard, or I’ve been very, very good recently_.

Richard broke the silence. “Hey, I remembered something the other day. Back in ‘07, right, when they grew grass on the outside of the National’s tower—”

Lex groaned and banged her head on the table.

Richard laughed. “I take that to mean that yes, you did have something to do with it, and it was a right pain in the arse.”

“You have NO idea,” Lex said, face still planted on the wood. “It was a fucking nightmare. _It’s got to have regular sunlight! But we want people to see it at night as well! But that’s not good for the grass! But it’s good for publicity!_ And then there was me, hauling lights and cables and God knows what up and down and in and out, and _No, that’s too bright and it’ll kill the grass,_ and _No, now we can’t see it at all,_ and aaaaaugh...” She banged her head again for emphasis.

“I can imagine.” Richard snorted another laugh as Lex resolutely kept her head down on the table top. “Are you going to come up from there or what?”

“Don’t know if I will, actually,” Lex said, voice slightly muffled. “This is the closest thing to sleep I’ve had since about three o’clock this morning.”

“They had you in working at 3am?!”

“ _They_ didn’t. _I_ did.” Lex sighed and heaved herself back into a sitting position.

“I don’t mean to sound disparaging at all, but is there really that much to do that you need to be there in the dead of the night?”

“There’s always something to do.”

“Don’t you ever do anything else?”

“Not really, no.” Out loud, Lex realised just how pathetic that sounded. _Oh Christ, you really are a piece of work, girl._ In a desperate attempt to put a positive spin on things, she said, “I mean, occasionally, of course. I’m here when I have the odd hour to get away. I get called out to schools to talk about my job—wait, that doesn’t really count, does it?”

“Not really, no,” Richard said, smiling.

Lex sighed internally but then had a thought. “Hang on, you can’t possibly have that much free time yourself. I mean, talk about living your work! By all accounts the three of you are constantly doing something show-related.”

Richard had to admit she had a point. “You’re right. I should work on that.”

“You should.” Lex smirked. “I win.”

“What? How do you win? You’ve got exactly the same issue!”

“I win because you admitted you needed to fix it first.” She giggled.

“Unfair!” Richard said, “I didn’t even know that was something you could win at.” He treated Lex to a full-blown pout and her giggle morphed into a laugh.

Lex stifled her amusement as she caught Richard looking at her oddly, suddenly feeling twelve kinds of awkward. She turned her gaze to her drink, feeling her cheeks go pink. _Shit_ , she thought, _well done, Lex. You’ve made an arse of yourself_.

“Here,” Richard said, noticing the sudden change, “tell you what, we could work on it together. What are you doing the rest of this evening?”

Lex eyed him sideways. “Why?”

“I thought dinner, maybe? Phones off, no work related anything. And not here. Somewhere new. For both of us.”

“I’ve got a technical run-through in the Lyttleton tonight,” Lex said quietly, returning her focus to the table top and spinning her glass.

“Oh. And we’re out at Dunsfold tomorrow.”

“Wednesday’s a re-hang in the Cottesloe.” Lex looked at Richard out of the corner of her eye. He looked a bit put out, honestly. She still wasn’t sure about this whole thing, but it seemed almost mean not to at least try. “I could do Thursday?”

“Perfect. Let’s do that, then.” Richard’s smile returned.

*******

Richard strode confidently into the portakabin Tuesday morning, flinging his bag down with a flourish and turning to Jeremy who was sat on the old, worn out sofa with his coffee and a script.

“I’ve got this one in the bag, old man.”

Jeremy didn’t even bother looking up. “Think so, do you?”

“Know so.”

Jeremy took a sip of his coffee. “‘Pride goeth before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall’, Hammond.”

“Hello, Kettle?” Richard pantomimed a phone to his ear. “This is Pot. You’re black.”

That got a healthy guffaw out of the big man and he shook his head.

James wandered in then and asked, “What’s the joke?”

“Hammond’s height,” Jeremy said automatically.

James grinned. “That’s never not funny.”

“Ha very ha, you two,” Richard said.

“No,” Jeremy shifted in his seat to look at his colleagues, “Hammond was just telling me that he thinks he’s got our little wager won already. I, being older and wiser, know better, of course.”

“I’ll agree to the ‘older’,” Richard smirked, “though I’m certain that ‘wiser’ is overstating the case.”

James shook his head as he started making himself some tea. “I think you’re in for a rude awakening on this one. You realise you’re toying with a person, right? She’s a human being. How do you think she’s going to feel when she finds out this whole thing was just an idiotic bet between the two of you to see if she could be made into your personal idea of female perfection?”

“If she can’t see the funny side of a perfectly sporting wager between two grown men, then there’s no place for her on my planet,” Jeremy said solidly.

Richard had been chewing his thumbnail during James’ chastisement, and felt a little poke from his conscience. **_He’s got a point, you know_** _._ _Oh, it’s just a bit of fun_ , he reasoned with himself. “Come on, James, where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Grossly outweighed by my spirit of decency, apparently. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Richard chuckled. “Clarkson’s never been ashamed of himself in his life.”

“You’re right about that,” Jeremy said, getting up to go out to the hangar. “I’ll see you two out there.”

After Jeremy left, James shot Richard a hard look. “You’re better than this, Hammond. I’d expect this sort of thing from him, but not from you. Do the decent thing and own up before you do more damage than you can repair.”

Richard felt the pangs of conscience hitting him much more clearly now. He drew up a marginally convincing laugh and said, “It’s just a bit of a lark, James. Stop making it sound like life or death!”

James just collected his tea and walked outside, where he found Jeremy lighting up at the Spitfire table. James set his mug down and lit his own cigarette, staring pointedly at Jeremy all the while.

“You do an unnervingly accurate impression of my wife, you know. Go on and spit it out, May.”

“I find this whole situation to be ill-advised, and bordering on cruel. You can be a real bastard, Clarkson, but I never thought you’d be this much of a one.”

“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” Jeremy said.

“It really is.”

“There’s a method to my madness, May.”

“Well then enlighten me, please, before I grab the nearest solid object and bludgeon you with it. Repeatedly.”

Jeremy blew out a puff of smoke, watching it dissipate into the air in front of him. “Hammond’s been a miserable bugger since What’s-Her-Name ran off with the Welshman.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Not at all. Which is why I even forced myself to exercise some restraint and wait a bit before I tried to throw him back into the deep end of the dating pool.”

“You? Restraint? Pull the other one, mate.” James took another drag of his cigarette.

“Believe it or not. Anyway, I tried six ways to Sunday to get him to put himself back out there, but I couldn’t manage it.”

James chuckled as he remembered something. “He told me about that blind date you set him up with last month. Said it was the most awkward evening of his life. Who was she, anyway?”

“Oh, you know, friend of a friend. Nice enough, came with a decent reference, I thought it was worth a shot.”

“A shot in the dark. Blindfolded. With a bloody pop gun.”

“All right, so it didn’t go so well. I threw in the towel after that. Figured if the Brummy bastard wanted to be wretched I’d bloody well let him.”

“So where did the idea for this idiotic bet come from?” James asked.

Jeremy grinned. “Have you ever known Hammond to back down from a challenge?”

James shook his head. “Fine, but now that he’s doing what you wanted him to do, for goodness’ sake do the decent thing and call it off. This has the potential to hurt too many people, Jez.”

“If I call it off, it just gives him an easy out. I’m seeing this through, James, and I’ll play the bastard if it keeps him on course. If it really doesn’t work out, then at least I’ll know he gave it a decent try.”

“Well, fine, but I hereby announce my intention to play at cross purposes to you. I’m going to lean on him to own up to her about it being a bet in the first place. The sooner he does, the less likely this will blow up in a fit of acrimony. And it’s not just about playing with the life of this poor woman you picked out of the ether. It’s Hammond’s life as well, you know.”

“And if my plan works, both their lives will be much improved. I’d call that a worthy cause.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” James muttered.

“Oh, come on, James. How hard can it—”

“ _Shut up._ ”

*******

On Thursday morning, Lex was sprawled on the cold cement of the loading dock at the theatre. Her legs were hanging over the edge, swinging, heels thumping against the side, and her head resting on her neatly folded arms. It was a chilly morning, but the sky wasn’t threatening rain—at least not yet. As Lex watched the clouds, looking for images in them, she heard footsteps approach.

“All right?” Nina Davies, the National’s purchasing manager and Lex’s best friend, flopped down next to her.

“My kingdom for a fag.”

“You quit seven years ago.”

“I know.”

“What’s got up your arse, then?”

Lex sighed. “You can’t laugh.”

“I’ll laugh if I fucking want to, mate.”

“Yeah,” Lex said sullenly. “I know you will.”

Nina gently kicked Lex’s work boot. “What’s up, Lexie?”

“Seriously, don’t laugh. I don’t even think you’ll believe this.”

“What is it, you silly bitch?” Nina reached over and shook Lex’s shoulders this time, knocking her softly on the cement, half laughing, half exasperated.

“Ow! Neens! Jesus!” Lex sat up, rubbing the back of her head dramatically as Nina rolled her eyes. “Got chatted up in the pub last week.”

“So?”

“So, it was Richard Hammond who chatted me up.”

“The one from the telly?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Nina said evenly.

“Okay? I say ‘Richard Hammond chatted me up in the pub’ and you say ‘okay’?”

“Yeah, so? Why wouldn’t he chat you up?”

“Surely you mean ‘Why WOULD he’?”

Nina said it slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child. “I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. Barring the odd fact that he was at The Hart to begin with, why wouldn’t Richard Hammond chat you up?”

Lex gave Nina an exasperated look and gestured up and down herself. “Neens, come on.”

Nina rolled her eyes but let it slide. “Fine, so Richard Hammond chatted you up in the pub last week. And you’re craving the stress-relief of a cigarette now, because?”

“Because I’m seeing him again tonight.”

“Good.”

“Is it?” Lex asked.

“I think so, yeah,” Nina answered. “It’s been a while since you’ve been out with anyone, and I mean, come on, he’s fucking gorgeous, Lex.”

“I know, but why me?” There was sadness in the question.

“Look, don’t question it, just go with it, okay? Could you just, I dunno, try to enjoy yourself for once and stop fretting?” Nina looked at Lex, who was chewing her lip and looking worried. “Tell me.”

“Saw him Monday, too, just for a bit.”

“That’s great! See? You’re already off to a good start!” Nina rested her head on Lex’s shoulder. “Tell me about it. From the beginning.”

“He was there last Friday with the other two, you know, Clarkson and May. He wandered over—bought me a drink, even—sat for a few minutes, asked if he could meet me again Monday. I said okay, since I was probably going to be there anyway, but I didn’t think he was serious, honestly.”

Nina snorted at that and Lex glared at her. “Do you want me to go on or not?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Nina smirked. “Go on.”

Lex narrowed her eyes at Nina but continued. “So he _did_ turn up on Monday, and we talked for a bit, had a few laughs—”

Nina’s giggle interrupted this time.

“No, you bint, not _that_ kind of ‘having a laugh’! You’re randier than a fourteen year old boy, you are.”

“You know it! But go on.”

“Anyway, we were talking about this and that and he asked about work and I more or less said it’s all I do, and then he said that maybe that wasn’t the best thing—”

Nina practically yelled this time. “Oh my God, I’m in love with him already. Maybe you’ll listen to him, because fuck knows you won’t listen to me!”

“Shut up! Anyway, I turned it around on him, because the three of them don’t seem to do much else, and he said I was right and maybe we could work on that together, and I’m seeing him again tonight.”

“That’s it? That’s the end of the story?”

“Yeah. And I’d have finished it half an hour ago but for your running commentary.”

“Fine,” Nina said as she stood up.

“What, fine?” Lex asked.

“Fine. Good. See him. Please. Maybe he’ll get you out of here for a change. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll get far enough into your head to finally convince you that you’re not as—”

“Nina!” Lex hissed

“Well, it’s true. You’re not. And that’s the last I’ll say on the subject. Today, anyway. Now get the fuck off my loading dock, I’ve got a truck coming in ten minutes.” Nina dragged Lex up onto her feet, planted a kiss on her forehead, and gave her a push towards the building.

“Neens,” Lex said quietly.

“What?”

“Love you, bitch face.”

“Love you, too, fucker.”

*******

Lex and Richard had decided on Monday before they parted ways that Richard would seek out another pub for Thursday, and he would text Lex during the day with the address and the time. It had ended up being another pub because Lex had shot down anything über posh and Richard had shot down anything even vaguely adventurous in the food category.

Richard, sneaky bastard that he was, opted for a posher pub, figuring Lex for the type who looked a place up before going. Judging from the photos, The Waterway in Maida Vale was hardly a place she could tromp to in her steel-toed boots and NT hoodie, and Richard was hoping she would slip into something that would give him a clearer idea of what lived under her usual togs. Sadly, however, the weather was chilly and wet, and when Lex showed up—several minutes after seven, when they’d agreed to meet—and shucked her coat, she was in slouchy, flat-soled boots and a rather voluminous jade-coloured jumper with a cowl neck. Her jeans were tightish, at least, but the height of the boots and the length of the sweater left him with a perfect view of her knees and that was about it.

He waved her over to the booth he’d commandeered in the corner, standing up with the intent of giving her a hug, but she just slipped into the seat across from him.

“Sorry, I misjudged the timing of the walk.”

He sat down with a thump, hoping it hadn’t looked as awkward as it felt. “You walked? It’s wet out.”

“I know, but I don’t get to do too much outside usually, so it’s nice to get a walk in when I can. It’s just a bit over a mile, anyway.” Lex grabbed a drinks menu. “What looks good, then?”

Richard studied her as she perused the menu. Her dark hair was piled up on top of her head as it had been the first two times he’d seen her, though more artfully and carefully this time. He was pretty sure she’d swiped on a bit of mascara, but there wasn’t a trace of any other cosmetic enhancement to be found on her face. The light was hitting her just so, making her hair shine and her eyes flicker and accentuating the curve of her lip, and Richard thought, _She doesn’t need it. She doesn’t. She needs a decent night’s sleep and a fortnight’s holiday, but there’s not a damn thing wrong with her_. **_But you thought there was, that’s why you agreed to this bet,_** his conscience chimed in. _Well, I was wrong,_ he thought, _I’m allowed to be wrong._ **_Yes, you’re allowed to be wrong. But you might want to think twice about being a bastard._** Richard was about to tell his conscience where to step off when he noticed Lex looking at him, one eyebrow raised. “Problems?” he asked.

“Well, that depends on how you classify ‘problems’,” she said, sliding the drinks menu across to him and pointing at it. “The whiskey selection is sorely lacking.”

“Ah,” Richard said, and shot her a faux-sheepish look. “I’ll get started polishing the light fixtures, shall I?”

He was rewarded with a laugh.

“Nah, I’ll let you off the hook this time. Everybody gets one, but you’ve used yours now, so just be mindful of that in future.” Lex gave him an evil grin.

“I stand chastened and rebuked,” he said, “and I solemnly promise that all future pubs will be well vetted to your preferences.”

Lex shook her head and smiled. “Cheeky bugger.”

“It’s part of my charm, I’m told.”

“Really? By whom?”

“The tabloids, the housewives of Britain, the fan sites, shall I go on?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, the ceilings in here aren’t high enough to accommodate your swollen head.”

“Oi!” Richard pretended to be wounded. “I’ll be crying myself to sleep tonight, thanks to you.”

“Oh, dear. Can’t have that, can we? Buck up, soldier. Buy me a glass of this Italian pinot grigio and I promise I’ll spend the rest of the evening singing your praises.”

“That’s better,” Richard said.

Lex snorted. “I get the feeling you’re an awful lot of work.”

“I’m not, really, as long as you pet me and tell me I’m pretty.” He fluttered his eyelashes for effect. “Oh, and make sure my coffee is exactly the right temperature, and keep me out of the wet, and—”

“And don’t feed you after midnight?” Lex interrupted.

“Exactly. See? You’ll do fine.” Richard grinned.

“Not if I don’t get some alcohol in my bloodstream fairly immediately, I won’t.”

“Am I that awful?”

“Wine, Mr. Hammond.”

“Coming right up, _Miss Adams_.” Richard laughed and moved off to the bar to get their drinks. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he waited. She was staring out the window toward the canal and all traces of their shared laughter had disappeared as soon as he’d walked away. She was tapping her lower lip with a thumb, clearly preoccupied with something. He grabbed their drinks and a couple of menus and returned to the table. “We have to come up with some sort of forfeit.” Lex looked at him, confused. “For when one or the other of us starts to think about work. Or talk about it.”

“Oh. Okay. First person to do so pays for the evening’s activities?” Lex suggested.

“Best get your card out, then, Adams,” Richard said.

“Oh really?”

“Come on, you were miles away just then. On the south bank. Probably in some odd little room full of fresnels.”

Lex took a drink of her wine and then said, “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Yep. I was miles away, but I was miles away in a completely non-work-related direction.”

“Damn. And here I was thinking I was going to get a free dinner.” He winked at her and she gave him a half a smile. “Where were you, then, if it wasn’t somewhere in the basement of the National?”

“Never you mind.”

“Ooooh, I like the sound of that,” he said with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle.

Lex just shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Are we eating, then?”

*******

“Fair’s fair, Hammond. I came up with the forfeit, I bungled spectacularly, I paid for dinner.” Lex was laughing at Richard, who was still blustering about her picking up the cheque when he nipped off for a quick trip to the gents.

“I wasn’t serious about the forfeit in the first place!” Richard held the door as Lex exited the pub, pulling her coat on. When they got outside, he turned Lex by her shoulders to face him and pulled up the hood on her jacket to keep her head out of the light sprinkle that was falling.

“I thought I was supposed to keep _you_ out of the wet,” Lex said, her voice quavering just a smidgen at the unexpected gesture.

He adjusted the hood a little, and when he was satisfied he moved his hands back to her shoulders, stroking his thumbs up a down lightly. “I’m not having you melt on me, since you’re made of sugar and all.” He winked.

“Tosser.”

“Yeah, sweet as they come, you are. Come on, I’ll run you home.”

Lex froze. “What?”

“It’s wet. And dark. What sort of man would I be to send you walking home in this?”

There was an edge to her voice as she said, “I’m perfectly capable—”

“Lex,” he said gently. “Please. I know you are. Just, humour me?”

She relented with a shrug and a sigh and followed him to the Rover. Richard pulled up the SatNav function on the dash and Lex entered her address as he pulled out of the car park. But for the voice of the SatNav, silence reigned for a few minutes, until Richard stopped at a light and looked over at his passenger. Lex was staring out the window, brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“You keep doing that with your face it’s going to stick that way, you know,” he said jokingly.

Lex turned towards him quickly, her face surprised and—was it hurt? Richard suddenly knew he’d said absolutely the wrong thing. As quickly as she’d turned to him, however, Lex pushed the hurt and surprise away and coughed a laugh in an attempt to gloss over the moment. Richard wasn’t fooled.

“God, Lex, I’m sorry. I touched a nerve there, didn’t I?” He pulled away from the light, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“No, ‘course not. Why would you think that?” Her voice was light but she was staring everywhere but at him.

“Just a hunch. You all right?”

“Yeah, fine.”

They were silent again until Richard pulled up in front of Lex’s place. He looked up and down the block as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “How many flats are these divided into?”

“Can’t speak for all of them, but mine’s three. I’m at the top,” Lex said.

“Okay. Text me when you get in, let me know you made it up? I’d say flash a light but I don’t know if I’ll be able to see it from here.”

“Okay.” She reached for the door handle.

Richard had a plan up his sleeve for something for them to do over the weekend, and he hoped she’d be agreeable. She’d gone very quiet after his crack about the face she’d been making. _Spit it out, Hammond, or you’ll miss your opportunity._ “Lex?”

“Hmm?” She turned back to look at him.

“What’s your Saturday look like?”

“I usually go into work.”

“Do you have to?”

She thought for a moment. “Not especially, why?”

“Because we’re going somewhere. What’s the earliest I can pick you up?”

“Where are we going?”

“Never you mind. Now, what time, please?”

“Nine? It’s not like I sleep worth a damn anyway.”

“Nine it is.” He smiled.

She smiled back and opened the door. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No, thank _you_ , remember? You lost!

“Shut up!” She laughed. “Are you at least going to fill me in on the dress code for this mystery outing on Saturday?”

Richard took a second to think and then said, “Wear shoes you don’t mind walking in.”

“Walking or hiking, Mr. Outdoors? There’s a difference.”

“Walking, I promise.”

“Hmm,” Lex intoned, giving Richard an appraising look. “All right, then. See you Saturday, yeah?”

“Nine o’clock! What’s your coffee of choice?”

“Oooh, I get coffee as well, do I? This is sounding better and better. Milk and one sugar, please. Two sugars if you think I’ll need the largest size.”

“What, no frou-frou lah-di-dah non-fat-mocha-latte-ccino-frappe-half-caff something-or-other?” Richard said, feigning surprise.

“Nah, I’ll leave that for you. Fusspot.”

“Well I never,” Richard huffed altogether unconvincingly.

Lex laughed. “Night, Hammond. I’ll let you know when I get in.”

“See that you do.”

She slid down from the Rover and closed the door behind herself. He watched her walk up the steps, unlock the door, and disappear inside the building. _You salvaged that, Hammond, well done._ Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he set it in a cupholder to wait for her text, wondering what exactly it had been about what he’d said at the beginning of the drive that had upset her. _You keep doing that with your face it’s going to stick that way, you know._ He turned the sentence over in his mind. _It’s not exactly mean. It’s something your mum might say._ **_You’re not her mum._ ** _Thank God for that, eh?_ **_Why did you say it?_ ** _It just came to mind, I suppose._ **_Well, you can’t claim it’s not keeping in the spirit of this bet._ ** _Oh for—_ There was a ding and his phone screen lit up.

‘I’m in. Thanks again for tonight.’

‘Glad to hear it. See you Saturday.’

Richard stowed his phone and pulled away, thinking back over the evening as a whole. Lex either hadn’t noticed his attempt at a hug when she got to the pub, or had willfully ignored it, but he was leaning towards her having not noticed as she’d been preoccupied with her coat. Once they’d gotten settled with their drinks and ordered their dinner the conversation hadn’t dropped once, apart from when they’d been eating, and that took longer than it probably usually would have on account of the fact that they had been engaged in the most _ridiculous_ conversation. With all talk of work outlawed, they had resorted to making up improbable histories for their fellow pub patrons, which turned into a discussion about words-that-weren’t-actually-words-but-should-be, which morphed into a debate over who would win in a fight between Darth Vader and Batman. (Lex had started explaining the difficulties of setting up a Bat Signal in real life which was how she had ended up paying for dinner.) Ultimately there was no clear winner, and they had agreed to disagree.

He’d discovered that Lex made what seemed to be the strangest connections between topics, but when he asked her to explain how she had gone from one to another and she laid out the path for him, it always turned out to make perfect sense. She was quick with her words as well. _She’ll give Clarkson a run for his money, I’d wager. The two of them would go at it hammer and tongs._ Richard stopped himself for a moment. Probably best not to get the two of them in the same place before the party, really. Jeremy would undoubtedly say something about the bet and then he’d be scuppered.

**_God forbid!_** _Shut up._ ** _Is this really_** **just** ** _a bet to you?_** _I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought about it further than that._ He realised that he hadn’t really considered anything beyond the endgame of the party. ** _Typical. And what are you going to do once this is over, exactly? Just disappear?_** _I—_ ** _No, don’t tell me. You don’t know._** _...No._ He didn’t know. **_Do you like her?_** _Yes._ ** _Why?_** _She’s clever._ ** _And?_** Richard thought for a moment. _She’s sweet, really. She just doesn’t let you see it immediately—she tests the waters first. She’s… I think the term is ‘spirited’. She’s not afraid to tell you what she thinks. She’s not pretentious at all, and she seems averse to it in others. She’s got very expressive eyes. And there’s this… light that emanates from her when she laughs..._ He followed that image in his head for a moment, smiling. **_Anything else?_** _Not yet, it’s early. I’m sure there’ll be more on Saturday._ ** _Hmm. Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait._**

*******

“Clarkson! Put. The hammer. _Down_.

Richard immediately detoured from his path to the front door of James’ house towards the side door to the garage, where the shout had come from. Sticking his head carefully around the open door, he said, “Should I be concerned?”

“No more than usual,” said Jeremy who was standing, hammer in hand, in front of a flustered James. “I was merely attempting to aid Slow along in his futile attempts to maintain this piece of rubbish.”

Jeremy gesticulated towards James’ Fiat Panda with his hammer, causing James to step between the car and Jeremy in a protective fashion.

“That ‘piece of rubbish’ happens to be a very economical and reliable—”

“Oh _God,_ ” Jeremy groaned. “Hammond, make him stop! I can’t take any more of his droning about miles per gallon and ease of parking.”

“Says the man who pitches an absolute fit every time he can’t find a space long enough for his German _limousine_ —”

“I’ll thank you to lay off my Mercedes, May. Apart from being an impeccable feat of engineering, it’s—”

“I’m not arguing against the _car_ so much as its _owner_ , you twat. You couldn’t park that vehicle properly if—”

“All right, _all right, ALL RIGHT!_ ” Richard bellowed. “Drop it, you two.”

“All I’m saying is that if he’d let me take the hammer to the Panda he could rid himself of it and get a _proper_ car.”

“And I’ll _I’m_ saying is that if you take one more step towards my Panda with that hammer in your hand I’m going to—”

“ _ENOUGH!_ ” Two grey heads swiveled simultaneously to look at Richard. “Clarkson, put the hammer down and go inside.” Jeremy made to argue but Richard stopped him. “Now!”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. Once the hammer was safely on the workbench and Jeremy was on his way out the garage door, Richard said, “May, you can stop protecting the Panda now, and go inside and put the kettle on.”

James smirked and walked towards Jeremy, who had stopped just outside the garage with a smug grin on his face. “Isn’t he sweet when he’s angry? So tiny and so fierce!”

“The way he bounces on the balls of his little feet like he’s fit to take a swing at you? It’s _adorable_!”

Richard joined them in the drive and slammed the garage door behind himself. “I will kill you both. In your sleep. With a _spanner_.”

James chuckled. “You _are_ a spanner.” He walked towards the house.

Jeremy followed James. “Come on then, mighty wee hamster. Let’s see if we can find you a nice carrot or something.”

“Bloody typical,” Richard grumbled. “I keep the two of you from killing each other, and what thanks do I get for my trouble? I swear, one of these days I’m going to let you get on with it, and _then_ where will you be?”

“Oh, come off it, Hammond, no one was going to kill anyone.” Jeremy clapped a hand on Richard’s shoulder and gave him a shake as they entered the house and toed off their shoes, following James into the kitchen.

“I would have killed you if you’d damaged my car,” James said equably from the kitchen counter where he was setting mugs out.

“Oh, all right, James would have killed me, but I’m pretty sure that the Daily Fail readership would have appointed him to sainthood for it, so we all would have come out smelling of roses.”

“Except you,” Richard pointed out. “What with you being dead and all.”

“I would have died knowing that my passing would bring joy to the masses, and that’s all that matters.”

“This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever been party to in the whole of my life,” said James. “And this is the three of us I’m talking about.”

Richard, defeated, rested his head in his hands, elbows on the counter. “The two of you are going to drive me to an early grave. Can we get a do-over on this? Pretend we’ve all just shown up and no one was trying to do anything with a hammer?”

James and Jeremy laughed, and Jeremy said, “What do you think, Slow? Should we give the poor hamster a break?”

“I suppose, since he did just keep us from inflicting grievous bodily harm upon each other.” James relented.

“All right, Hammond, we give in,” Jeremy said, and then suddenly adopted an overly-delighted tone. “Richard! How lovely to see you! Isn’t this weather—”

“ _Shut it._ ”

“Oh, lay off him for a bit, Clarkson, you’re going to give the man an aneurysm.” James set mugs in front of Jeremy and Richard and took a swig from his own. “Come on. Lounge.”

The three of them trailed into the lounge and settled, James and Richard at opposite ends of the sofa and Jeremy in the armchair.

“So how goes it with our little wager, Hammond? Are you still playing Professor Higgins to The Terror of the South Bank?”

“I feel sincerely sorry for this woman,” grumbled James over the lip of his mug.

“James,” Richard said, “I promise I’m not being a bastard about it. I like her. I think I might make a proper go of it, even.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to tell her how she came to be the object of your affections in the first place?”

“Erm…” Richard wavered. “Probably not. I don’t fancy being strung up by my bollocks with electrical cables.”

“Oooh, kinky! Does that mean you’ve shagged her already?” Jeremy asked with glee.

“No, it doesn’t, you pillock! I said I was being a gentleman, didn’t I?”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t—”

“Stop. Talking,” Richard said darkly, and Jeremy made a lip-zipping motion.

“Lovely foundation for a proper, grown-up relationship, you know, harbouring the secret that the first thing she was to you was a bet,” James said nonchalantly.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “There’s no pleasing some people, is there?”

“Look,” Richard said, thunking his mug down on the coffee table. “Here’s the gist of it. You already know about Friday and Monday, yes?” James and Jeremy nodded. “Fine. I took her out again last night to a posh pub on the canal in Maida Vale—"

“Posh pub? What did she wear, her _formal_ oversized National Theatre hoodie?”

“Not. Another. Word.” Richard glared at Jeremy, who raised his hands in surrender. “We talked, we laughed, we ate, we had a few drinks, I ran her home. We’re going out to Virginia Water tomorrow. Have a wander ‘round, say hello to the ducks, that sort of thing.”

Richard stopped, so Jeremy ventured, “Am I allowed to speak yet?”

“That depends on what you’re going to say.”

Jeremy snorted. “I promise I won’t be prurient. Well, not terribly.” He cocked an eyebrow as Richard scowled. “All I want to know is how much longer are you going to play at all this kid stuff before you get her to agree to come to the party with you? I mean, it’s a _party_ for fuck’s sake, it’s not like you’re asking her to _marry_ you.”

“Kid stuff? Really?” Richard rolled his eyes. “Obviously I’m going to have to soon, I know. I’m trying to build up to it. She’s guarded, Clarkson. She doesn’t make it easy to get close to her.”

“Do you hear that, James?” Jeremy said.

“Hear what?”

“The sound of me winning.”

Richard shot Jeremy a look. “Don’t get your hopes up, old man. I still fully intend to win—” he looked over at James, “— _without_ being a bastard—” he looked back to Jeremy, “—and what’s more, she’ll be stunning. She’s gorgeous, I’ll have you know. _And_ she’s clever. _And_ she’s funny. Whole package.”

“But guarded,” James said.

“Yeah,” Richard agreed.

“And that’s where you’re running into trouble.”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Well, you know my feelings on the subject, so you won’t need to hear them again.” James stood up and collected their mugs, wandering to the kitchen without another word.

“I’m thinking black,” Jeremy said, seemingly apropos of nothing.

“What?” Richard asked.

“For my new driving gloves. You know, when you _lose_.”

“Fuck off, Clarkson.”

*******

Saturday dawned earlier than Lex wanted it to but later than she could manage to stay asleep. By some miracle she had made it home by eleven the night before—about an hour and a half earlier than she usually would. She had done it on purpose, even, to try to get a decent night’s sleep in before Saturday’s mystery trip with Richard.

She was one for two.

She had woken up every hour on the hour for the whole night, and once it got to be six o’clock she couldn’t fall back asleep again at all. At seven, she gave up. Knowing coffee was coming with her companion for the day she skipped it, opting for a long shower and a stack of jammy toast instead. As she ate, she sat on her makeshift window seat which looked out over the road and the tiny greenbelt that divided the street. In the summer when the sycamores were in leaf it was hard to see into the grassy area, but mid-October left the trees naked and wiry, their branches pointing up as if to curse the sky for their lack of cover. Lex could see the birds flitting around between the trees and the ground and the benches in the little park. A pair of joggers passed, their breath visible as they puffed along. Mrs. Ferguson from three houses down wandered into the parklet with her little yappy Yorkie, who gleefully chased a squirrel until he choked himself at the end of his lead and fell back in a heap. Lex laughed. She knew it was cruel, but that damn dog was an unholy terror to the neighbourhood. _That squirrel should be up for a knighthood,_ she thought.

A glance at the clock on the wall showed half past eight. Time for her to be thinking about shedding the bathrobe. Lex sighed and moved to the back of the flat where her bedroom was and flung open the closet. _Walking, not hiking,_ she thought. _Best to go somewhere in the middle, maybe._ She pulled out a pair of dark purple Doc Martens, bought ages ago on a whim and worn two, maybe three times. They could put up with a bit of a hike if it came to it. _Walking… unlikely to be anything swanky… I hope._ That meant jeans. Dark wash, straight leg, cuffed at the hems, a size larger than was necessary, but then, that was most of her wardrobe—at least, the stuff that wasn’t _two_ sizes too large. _Chilly,_ she remembered from her time spent at the window. Black v-neck t-shirt, tucked in, under a flannel shirt, also a size too big, _not_ tucked in—large gingham checks, black and purple to go with the boots—just the top two buttons left undone, and only for the sake of comfort. She cuffed the sleeves up on the flannel shirt to just below her elbows. _Belt?_ Belt. The black leather with the tooling on it and the silver buckle. Hair piled up on top of her head, as per usual. A glance at her face in the mirror served as a reminder that there was nothing whatsoever to be done about that, so she stopped looking and went to collect the necessities for the day. Wallet, keys, phone, all tucked into the pockets of her olive drab lightweight parka—she wanted the hood in case it rained—and her old aviator sunglasses situated atop her head in case the sun prevailed.

Another look at the clock. Quarter to nine. Nothing to do now but wait. She settled back at the window, keeping an eye out for Richard to arrive. Looking at the sky, she sent up a silent prayer for the weather to hold. It would be nice to see the sun for longer than a few minutes for a change. Tucked away inside the theatre most days left Lex little time to be out of doors. She knew that was partly (mostly) her own fault, but… Work was all she had, really. All she _chose_ to have, at any rate. She’d burrowed herself so far into that choice that she’d nearly forgotten there were any others to be had, at least until Richard had inserted himself abruptly and unceremoniously into her life.

She still couldn’t quite fathom that, really. She had looked like death warmed up that Friday evening in the pub, absolutely nothing like anyone she’d ever expect someone like him to be interested in, even marginally. Still, there was no denying that he _had_ approached her, schlumpy work clothes, tired, unsightly face and all. And he’d kept coming back; Monday, Thursday, and now today. She’d been a little deflated by his joke about her face on Thursday, she couldn’t deny that, but since he’d immediately noticed and apologised she had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and chalk it up to an honest attempt at humour on his part and not an actual slight to her, though deep down it still felt a bit like that. She just hoped he hadn’t put two and two together, because the last thing she needed was him knowing what the devil on her shoulder was constantly whispering in her ear lest it drive him away, because she didn’t really want him to go.

Lex hated to think she needed anyone for anything—because she didn’t, dammit—but if things happened for a reason as Nina always liked to contend, then maybe Richard was here to open the world back up to her a bit. She shook her head. _Sentimental bollocks._

Richard’s Rover pulled up at the kerb and Lex heard the _ping_ of a text on her phone. She didn’t bother reading it, just grabbed her coat and locked up behind herself on her way down.

*******

As Lex came out the front door of her building and trotted down the steps, Richard leaned across and popped the passenger door open. She opened it the rest of the way.

“Hammond.”

“Adams.”

Lex grinned and hopped up into the car. Richard tapped the top of one of the coffee cups settled into the holders in the console. “That’s you. Enormous, milk and two sugars, as instructed.”

“Thank you. What’ve you got, then?”

Richard checked over his shoulder and pulled away from the kerb. “Coffee.”

“Specifically?”

“Shut up.”

Lex laughed. “They’re going to revoke your Man Card one of these days, you know.”

“I do plenty of extra-manly things to make up for it, believe me.” Richard waggled an eyebrow and Lex rolled her eyes at him.

“Where are we going, then?”

“Somewhere.”

“Thanks for that.”

“You’ll like it, I promise.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there will be ducks. You can’t not like ducks.”

“...I will concede your point.”

They continued along in silence for a while and Richard watched his passenger out of the corner of his eye. The vestiges of a smile hovered at the corner of her mouth, not disappearing even after she took a sip of her coffee. They moved out of the city onto the M4, headed west. At one point Lex put her cup back in the holder and her hand lingered there, thumb plucking at the edge of the plastic lid as she stared out the window at the world drifting by. Richard chanced getting thumped for the presumption and slipped his hand underneath hers, lacing their fingers together, not taking his eyes from the road as he did. He felt her go stiff for a second, her head snapping towards him, but when he gently stroked his thumb along her index finger, she relaxed and resumed looking out the window. He left it at that for about ten minutes, leaving her hand on his thigh if he needed his own back for a moment and then returning to her.

“You all right over there?”

“Hmm?” She looked at him. “Oh. Yeah, I’m all right. You?”

“Fine.” They’d merged onto the M25 a while ago, and Richard saw the mileage sign for the A30 flit past. “Not long now.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

She squeezed back. “Okay.”

Richard was a little concerned with how quiet she was this morning, but then, she _was_ letting him hold her hand, so maybe, well, who knew? Maybe she’d brighten up when they got there. She looked even more tired than usual and he wished he knew how to fix it, short of taking a frying pan to the back of her head. They were silent again for a while, off the M25 and onto the A30, up through the villages.

When they came to a large roundabout at the bottom of a hill, Lex squeaked, “Ducks don’t live at Maserati showrooms!”

“What?” Richard looked where Lex was pointing. Sure enough, there was a glass wall protecting a glistening row of _very_ pretty Gran Turismos. “Oh, _hello._ Right, change of plans.” Lex flicked his shoulder and he laughed. “No, that’s not where we’re going, I promise.”

They continued up the hill and a scant minute later Richard was laughing again. “Did you see that pub we just passed?”

“No, I missed it. Why?”

“‘The Monkey’s Forehead’! I’m amazed the council allowed that.”

“It was never called that!”

“It was, I swear. D’you want me to double back and prove it?”

Lex was pushing buttons on the SatNav now, trying to find the pub. It popped up as soon as the satellite found them and she said, “You’re shitting me. That’s… bold.” She giggled and kept scrolling up the map on the screen in the direction they were headed and saw a lake labeled ‘Virginia Water’. “Aha! I know where the ducks are.”

Richard swatted her hand away from the SatNav. “Hey, that’s cheating!”

“Is not. I’m simply availing myself of the tools at my disposal.”

“Fancy way of saying cheating,” Richard grumbled, but his smile gave away that he wasn’t actually perturbed.

“Aww, I’m sorry. Have I ruined your day now?”

“You have. I’m devastated.”

Lex tutted. “Oh dear. Well, there’s nothing for it I suppose. We’ll just have to go home. Poor ducks, they’ll be desolate.”

“They will?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well,” Richard reasoned, “mustn’t disappoint the waterfowl.”

“I wonder what a pouty duck looks like? I mean, we say people make a duck face when they pout, but have you ever actually seen a duck pout?”

Richard took Lex’s hand again and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of her wrist. “You know what you are? You’re a wonderfully _odd_ duck.”

Lex just smiled and looked back out the window.

There was finally a break in the trees lining the road and the car park came into view. Richard made the turn and slid the Rover into a space at the far end.

“Picked the right day for it, didn’t I?” he said, looking up at the cloudless sky as they got out.

“Hmm.” Lex slipped her sunglasses down and over her eyes. “Come on, then. I was promised ducks.”

“So you were.”

They fell into step with each other, wandering towards the lake, setting out down the path to the left.

“It goes right the way ‘round,” said Richard. “It’s about four and half miles, if you’re up for all of it.”

“I’m remarkably sturdy, I think we can manage it. Besides, then we’ll see _all_ the ducks.”

“Clearly I underestimated your level of interest in ducks.” Richard laughed.

“I am literally clinging to the one thing I understand about today’s outing, and it happens to be ducks.” Lex giggled.

“What do you mean, ‘understand’? What is there to understand? We’re just two people having a walk on a nice day.”

Lex shook her head, her smile turning wry. “Doesn’t matter. Do I hear falling water?”

“Oh, yeah. There’s a little falls just up here.” _What is going through her head?_ he thought. **_You should probably find out, you know._ ** _Well, obviously._ **_Doesn’t do to keep secrets from AND not be bothered about the feelings of someone you say you want to get to know better._ ** _Thank you, I’m aware of that. I’ll ask her. Later._

They continued their walk in a clockwise direction around the lake. When they ran out of observations on the scenery they got back into their Darth Vader/Batman argument, which then led them to create even more ridiculous pairings to face off against each other, and by the time they exhausted the subject they were up to mass villains versus mass villains. They stopped for absolutely _every_ duck, and gave most of them names. About two-thirds of the way around, Richard decided to inject even more silliness into the proceedings and pointed at a large beech tree a bit further up the path. “I bet you can’t climb that tree.”

Lex sized the tree up from where they were. “How much?”

“Tenner?”

“You’re on.” She slipped out of her coat and handed it to him along with her sunglasses, trotting off towards the tree.

Richard followed behind, watching as Lex came to a stop beneath it and wandered side to side for a moment, looking for a branch to start with. When she found one she liked the look of, she stretched her hand up to judge the height. Richard grinned when the tips of her fingers barely grazed the bark on the underside. His amusement turned to surprise quite quickly, however. He watched as Lex backed up a few feet, swung her arms behind herself, got a jogging start and leapt, swinging her arms forward and wrapping them solidly around the tree branch. She walked up the trunk with her feet until she could swing her right leg over the branch she was holding. At that point she swapped her left arm over so that she had both arms and a leg at the right side of the first branch and gave herself a push to the next available limb, pulling herself all the way up into the tree. She didn’t stop there. She kept going up and up and further up, until Richard got a bit dizzy watching her.

“Oi! Any higher and you’ll be able to hang off the 747’s flying into Heathrow,” he called up. “You can come down now, you win.”

“Dunno if I will, actually. I like it up here.”

“Let me rephrase—could you please come down, you’re making me nervous.”

Lex cocked an eyebrow at him and nonchalantly dropped her legs off of the branch they were on, swinging, suspended by just her arms.

“ _JESUS!_ ” Richard shouted and then clapped a hand over his mouth when a few passers-by looked at him, startled. Dialing his volume down a bit, he said, “Lex, really, can you come down now, please?”

“Oh, relax. I’m perfectly safe.”

“All the same.”

Lex swung herself back down through the tree. When she came to the branch she’d used to get up in the first place she sat on it, one leg over either side, and then tilted to her right, ending up completely upside down, hanging on like a sloth right in front of Richard. He’d started when she’d dropped, moving forward as if to catch her, realising only at the last moment that she had the situation completely under control. Lex dropped her arms and folded them behind her head, suspended now by just her legs anchoring her above the tree limb, and stared at Richard, swinging slightly and grinning like a mad thing.

“What? I came down. You didn’t say how _far_ down.”

For his part, Richard was trying to get his heart rate back under control. Clearly Lex didn’t have the same aversion to heights as he did—his wasn’t as bad as James’, but it wasn’t exactly nonexistent either—and he’d been terrified the whole time she was up in the tree that she’d fall.

“Lex.” It came out shaky. “Just get your feet back on the ground, yeah? Please?”

Lex curled back upwards, wrapping her arms around the branch again, dropping her legs, and then releasing her hold on the tree, landing lightly on her feet. She turned to face Richard.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Lex cocked her head to the side and looked at him for a moment. “You were actually worried, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Richard just nodded. He watched her face as she allowed that feeling to settle, saw the moment her mind registered that maybe he actually _cared_ , and he was pleasantly surprised to find that he actually _did_. He was about to hand her back her coat when she stepped up in front of him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her forehead against his neck—there was no pressure to the touch, like she was afraid to come completely into contact with him, but still, there she was.

“Sorry.”

Richard wound his arms around her, pulling her the last millimetre into him, resting his cheek on her hair. “S’okay,” he said. “It was pretty impressive, all things considered. Just… I’m used to being the one _doing_ the dangerous thing, not watching it being done. Apparently I’m only okay with my own wild adrenaline trips.”

“Double-standard much?”

“Shut up.” He pressed a gentle kiss into her hair and let her go, depositing her sunglasses back onto her face in the most lopsided way possible on purpose and passing over her coat.

Lex adjusted her glasses with an eye roll and slipped her parka back on as they started walking again.

Richard asked, “Where did you learn to do that, anyway? I mean, I know tree climbing is on the childhood syllabus, but that looked a little more, I dunno, technical?”

“Ah, well, you see,” Lex smirked. “I’d tell you, but I’m not allowed.”

“Why?”

“It relates to that thing we’re not supposed to talk about.”

“The one that starts with ‘w’?”

“That’s the one.”

Richard laughed. “I’ll give you a pass, because I really do want to know.”

“Well, think about it. A lot of what I do entails dealing with things that are rather high off the ground. If I’m not on a scaffold, I’m up in the catwalks, and sometimes it’s just easier to go from one to the other in a non-Health-and-Safety approved manner. And sometimes it’s just more _fun_.”

“Just promise me you’re careful when you pretend you’re Spiderman, okay?” Richard linked his index finger with her little finger.

“Promise.”

*******

They were headed back to the city, having circumnavigated the lake and bidden farewell to the ducks, one of whom had taken quite a shine to Richard and followed him about for a bit.

“Even the bloody _ducks_ are half in love with you!” Lex had teased as Richard had tried to rid himself of his feathered friend. “We might as well take her with us. You could put her on a little lead and take her for walks in the park.”

At that point, Richard had finally succeeded in shooing the female mallard back into the water and had given Lex a gentle shove in the direction of the car park, saying, “Go, go, go, before she starts following me again! _”_ They had laughed as they had jogged back to the Rover.

After about a mile, Richard said, “All right, I’m starving. You fancy eating at The Monkey’s Forehead?”

“We can’t do that! Can you imagine the field day the press would have if they got hold of that story? ‘Richard Hammond eats out at The Monkey’s Forehead’.”

Richard burst out laughing. “You have a truly filthy mind, Lex.”

“Not wrong, though, am I?”

“I honestly doubt it would make the nine o’clock news, but all right. What are we going to do, then? Because it’s been a long time since breakfast.”

“Come back to mine? We can order in. There’s a decent Chinese not too far away—and they _deliver_.”

“Perfect.”

_Look at you, pushing things along,_ Lex thought. _It’s almost like you_ want _this to get somewhere._ She mulled that over for a moment. _He actually got worried when you were up that tree, you know. That’s… well, it’s something, anyway. Maybe Nina’s right, you should just accept it and not fret about it. Just let it be what it is and stop trying to rationalise it._ She looked at Richard out of the corner of her eye. _I guess I owe you an apology, The Universe. I’m sorry I doubted you. He’s lovely. Thank you._ Lex looked back out the window and rested her head on the door. Last night’s lack of sleep was catching up to her, and they had a ways to go yet. She dozed off with a little glow growing in her chest.

*******

Richard looked over about five minutes after Lex fell asleep and smiled. He’d let her be until they got back into London, and then he’d keep her up for a while in the hope that she’d sleep tonight. _With or without me, as long as she sleeps,_ he thought, before his conscience could jump all over him. **_Look, you’re doing fine. She’s starting to trust you. Don’t balls it up by keeping secrets._ ** _I know, I know, I’m going to tell her._ **_Fine. When?_ ** _When it’s right. And not before._

He flicked the radio on then, as quiet as he could get it and still hear it, and concentrated on the road. There was a bit of traffic as they got closer to the city and Richard detoured a few times along side roads he knew would be less congested, until he finally pulled up and parked on Lex’s street. She’d slept the whole way back and he hated to have to wake her now; she looked so peaceful. Still, his stomach was about ready to jump out of his body and go find its own food if he didn’t do something about it soon, and if he was hungry, she had to be, too.

He reached over and tucked a bit of hair behind Lex’s ear. “Hey. Come on, Lex, we’re here.” He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. She shrugged him off but didn’t wake up. He chuckled and tried again, giving her a gentle shake this time. “All right, Adams, get a move on.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she came to, looking around blearily for a moment and then registering her surroundings. She looked at Richard and flopped her head onto his shoulder. “Mmmph.”

“I know, but I might actually die if I don’t eat something soon. Come on.”

Lex heaved a sigh and started the process of extricating herself from the vehicle. They crossed the road and she let them into the building, leading the way up the stairs and into her flat. Once inside, she shed her boots and jacket, pulled a takeaway menu out of a drawer in the kitchen, shoved it into Richard’s hands, and collapsed on her stomach on the sofa.

“I’ll take care of this, then, shall I?” Richard asked with a grin.

“Mmmph. Y’owe me a tenner ‘nyway,” came the response from the pillows.

“Any special requests?”

“N’mber six. Other th’n that, don’t care.”

Richard called in the order and then opened the fridge. “Twenty minutes, they said. Are these beers up for grabs?”

Turning her head so she could see him, she said, “Yeah, help yourself. Bring me one, too, please?”

Richard opened two bottles and then moved over to the sofa. “Shift up.”

Lex rolled onto her back and sat up enough so that he could sit at one corner, then immediately put a pillow down and laid back across his lap once he sat, taking her beer from his hand and wriggling until she was comfortable.

“Are you quite finished?” Richard asked, flicking her nose.

“I think so, yes.”

“Good. I want to ask you something.”

“Alexandra.”

Richard looked at her, confused. “What?”

“Lex is short for Alexandra. I can’t believe you needed to ask.”

“I didn’t ask that!”

“You did. The other week. I just didn’t answer you right away.”

Richard laughed. “Your mind makes the most ridiculous leaps of logic, you know that? That wasn’t what I was going to ask you at all.”

“I know, I just like derailing you.” Lex smirked.

“I’ve noticed.” He settled an arm at her waist and pulled her a little closer. “We’re filming the last studio show of the series on Wednesday. The wrap party is on Saturday. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

“Like a pub thing?”

“Not this time. We switch off organising them—this one is Jeremy’s. He’s opted for a swank do at the Dorchester. Flash suits and cocktail dresses, you know, that sort of thing.”

“Ah,” Lex said, sitting up. “Problem.”

“Problem?” Richard asked.

“Problem,” Lex repeated. “I don’t own a cocktail dress.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Little black dress?”

“Still nope. But it’s not just that.” She grimaced then, as if she had said something she hadn’t meant to.

“What is it, then?” Richard put his beer down and reached for her, pulling her back to where she had been, laid across his lap.

Lex allowed herself to be handled, burrowing her nose in his chest once he got his arms back around her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s the kind of party you want arm candy for. I don’t exactly fit that bill.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not… well, I’m not arm candy. It’s as simple as that.”

Richard stroked a thumb down the bit of cheek still visible from where Lex was shoved up against his front. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does. I say ‘Come to a party with me’, and you say ‘I’m not arm candy’, and it obviously means _something_ to you, but I don’t know what. Tell me?”

Lex sighed. “It’s not some kind of militant feminist thing, I swear. It’s just… an _image_ , you know? It’s an image I don’t fulfill. Flash suits and cocktail dresses equates to six-foot-tall blondes with killer tits and legs for days. _That’s_ arm candy. And I’m not that.”

Richard had to chuckle a bit at this. “I promise you there won’t be a single person there who fits that description, and if there is, I’ll know I’m at the wrong party. Honestly, Lex, there’s no reason for you to feel you can’t be there because you do or don’t look a certain way.” He felt her droop even more and made a desperate attempt at lightening the mood. “Anyway, I’d look really stupid next to a six-foot-tall blonde.”

“Not stupid. Short, yes, but not stupid.”

“Thanks _very_ much. Who says I want a six-foot-tall blonde anyway? I’d rather have you.”

“Flash suits and cocktail dresses says you need the blonde.”

“Still rather have you.”

“I won’t look right. You’d do better to go stag.”

Richard looked helplessly down at Lex, who had her eyes closed and was pressed deliberately into his shirt in an attempt not to have to look at him. **_Oh dear, looks like Clarkson’s won after all._** _Fuck off, there’s obviously a bigger problem here!_ ** _No, really? Is this the bit where I get to say ‘I told you so’?_** _You’re not helping._ ** _On the contrary, I think I am. Figure it out, Hammond. How hard can it—_** _Shut. Up._ “Lex—”

The buzzer interrupted. Lex started to get up but Richard stopped her. “No, I’m getting this, remember? I still owe you a tenner for managing to get up that tree.”

“Even though I scared you half to death?”

“Even though.” He bumped their noses together, moved her so he could get off the sofa, and headed downstairs.

While he was gone Lex got up and moved a couple of things off of the coffee table so they’d have room to eat, then pulled the table closer to the sofa. She had relocated to the kitchen and was opening them each another beer when he came back up with the food.

“Over here, then?” he asked, motioning to the coffee table.

“Yeah.”

They ate in silence, Richard setting to the food with gusto and Lex only slightly less enthusiastically.

Eventually, Richard came up for air. “Oooooh, I needed that.”

“Good thing there’s some left, you’ll just be hungry again in ten minutes.”

“I’ve never understood why that happens. Do you have any idea?”

“Not a clue.” Lex tossed a fortune cookie at him.

Richard broke the cookie open and read his fortune aloud. “‘The one you love is closer than you think’.”

“You’re supposed to add ‘in bed’ at the end of them, you know,” Lex said dryly.

“Even better.” Richard gave an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. “Go on then, what’s yours say?”

Lex read it to herself first, and when she spoke it was with a sly smile. “Beware hamsters bearing gifts of Chinese food. In bed.”

“That is _not_ what it says.”

“No, okay, you’re right. It actually says ‘Help! I’m being held hostage in a Chinese fortune cookie factory!’”

“In bed?”

“That’s obscene and highly unsanitary.” Lex slipped the fortune into her pocket and started to clear things away.

Richard said, “They gave us three of these, you want the last one?”

“Not right now. Leave it there, I guess. One or the other of us will get around to it sometime.”

Richard did, and moved into the kitchen, waiting for Lex to finish putting the leftovers in the fridge and then wrapping his arms around her from behind, tucking his chin over her shoulder. “Now, I’m going to ask you again; will you please come to the wrap party with me next Saturday?”

“I will answer you again; no, thank you.”

“You underestimate my persistence.”

“You _over_ estimate my patience.”

“Why, Lex? And not the half-why, the whole-why, please.”

“I told you,” she said, adopting a wispy tone, “I’ve simply _nothing_ to wear!”

“Lex,” Richard said, half warning and half exasperated.

“Fine!” Lex broke out of his arms and faced him. “You want the whole-why? It’s because you can’t fix ugly.”

She stared him down, daring him to say something. Suddenly all the little things he’d been cataloging started to click into place. She had just made it clear that she was contemptuous of her looks.  He remembered something she’d said when they first met—’All my sides are bad.’ What if all the enormous hoodies and so forth were an attempt to stay hidden? It was possible that with one off-the-cuff joke about ‘your face will stick like that’ he had (albeit unknowingly) practically confirmed it for her, in her mind, anyway. Maybe she worked so much because she didn’t think there was anything else to be had—any _one_ else to be had.

Richard felt a sudden flash of anger. If his assumptions were correct, it was fucking criminal. If this unique, intelligent, stubborn, wild, sweet, ridiculous human being standing in front of him held herself back because _she didn’t think she looked right_ , then he was damn well going to do his best to persuade her otherwise. There was nothing wrong with her. Not a damn thing. And if he could figure out where she had gotten this idea in the first place and it turned out to be a _person_ … well, he’d cross that bridge when he had the plans, but there would absolutely be some very harsh language and probably (who was he kidding, _definitely,_ ) some fists involved. He wondered if she’d ever even have said anything at all, without the idea of being on display tipping her over the edge. She was clearly incredibly uncomfortable with the whole thing. _You push this, and you’ll drive her away. Better to lose the bet than her._ **_Did you just—?_ ** _Yes, I did, all right?_ **_Well then, by all means._ ** “Okay,” he said softly.

“Okay what?” Lex was still glaring.

“Okay, I won’t push it. The offer stands, but I’m not going to force the issue.” Richard gently took Lex’s face in his hands and brought their foreheads together. “But your reasoning is flawed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my reasoning. _I’m_ flawed.” She flicked her eyes down, away from his gaze.

“Where did you get that idea?” Richard asked quietly.

Lex pulled away from him and busied herself with their empty beer bottles, rinsing them out and putting them to one side of the sink. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because it’s a part of you, and I want to know _all_ of you.” Lex just snorted derisively, so Richard continued, “Well, I do. I want to know what makes you tick, what makes your mind make those funny little jumps from one thing to another at the tiniest hint of a similarity, what makes you the wonderful, odd little duck that you are _._ ”

“That’s all very well and good, but when you like the interior and can’t take the exterior anywhere it’s not exactly fair to you, is it?”

Richard stepped towards her and wrapped his arms around her again. She stood stiffly, but he persisted until she finally relaxed and returned the hug. He burrowed his nose in the hair just above her ear and said, “You don’t have to tell me now, but someday I really would like to know where this is coming from.”

“It’s not worth discussing. I look like what I look like, it won’t change, and what I look like isn’t anyone’s idea of even remotely decent.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Richard said solidly.

Lex paused for a moment, not breathing, and then said, “I think you need your eyes checking.”

“I don’t. And what’s more, I’ll prove it.”

“And how do you plan to do that, exactly?”

“You let me worry about that.”

Lex sighed. “Now you’re just taking the piss.

Richard pulled back a bit and tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I promise I’m not. I wouldn’t, not with something like this.”

He saw the change in her eyes, the moment the balance tipped. Her next words were meant to be scathing, but there was a tremor in her voice which overrode any traces of anger. “I swear to God, Richard, if you think you’re going to stand me in front of a mirror and give me some cock-and-bull lecture—”

“Nope,” he said smoothly, cutting her off. He pulled her even closer, and as she buried her face in his neck, he whispered, “I’m going to do better than tell you. I’m going to _show_ you.”

*******

Richard spent Monday distracted. He was doing some very-last-minute voiceovers for a piece that was meant to be shown at the Wednesday studio filming because the original recording had somehow accidentally been deleted. Wilman was livid, and Richard wasn’t making it any easier. He knew it, and he felt badly about it, but his mind was simply somewhere else, remembering Saturday night and most of Sunday as he’d shown Lex just how beautiful he thought she was, over, and over, and over, until they’d passed out in each other’s arms, sated and boneless and completely spent.

Tuesday was rehearsal day and it was so hectic he didn’t have time to think about much of anything else until he slumped into the Rover with a sigh and started it up to head home. He pushed away all the stress of the day and concentrated solely on Lex.

The way Richard saw it, Lex had taken her one perceived failing and built up around it on all sides. If she couldn’t compete in the looks department, then she’d bloody well make herself useful—to the detriment of her sleep and sanity in the end, but still, there was no calling into question her dedication and conscientiousness where her work was concerned. He hated the fact that she was so entrenched in the unfounded concept that she wasn’t worth looking at, and he was livid with Jeremy for couching the wager the way he had. This whole thing felt doubly wrong now that he knew that his agreeing to and acting on the bet had managed to dredge up Lex’s little personal piece of hell. Of course his fury was irrational, because it wasn’t as though Jeremy could have known about Lex’s one hangup, but still, it incensed Richard no end now that he’d figured it out. Between his increasingly mouthy conscience and the memories of James’ objections playing back in his mind, he was kicking himself something fierce. In his heart of hearts he knew he should come clean about the bet, but he also knew that Lex wasn’t one to suffer fools lightly. There was the distinct possibility that this could be the end of something he really didn’t want to lose. He tried to banish the thought from his head but it lingered, prodding him, giving him second thoughts. _Does she really need to know? What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her._ **_Ah, but it can. You know it can. You could sidestep the unpleasantness for now, but what happens when Clarkson has one too many and blurts it out? Better she hears it from you._ **

By the time he arrived back at Dunsfold on Wednesday morning, his mind was made up. Richard walked into the portakabin and marched up to Jeremy, handing him a hundred pound note.

Jeremy grinned. “What’s this? Throwing in the towel early?”

“Conscientious forfeit. I refuse to be party to this any longer. She deserves better.”

“Forfeit my arse. Fancy word for ‘losing’.”

“Call it what you like.”

“You’ve been putting too much stock in James’ opinion, Hammond.”

Richard set his jaw. “No. I’ve realised that sometimes people are the way they are for a reason, and in this instance I’m refusing to jeopardise her peace of mind for some stupid bet I made because I was feeling like a smug bastard.”

“At last!” James said from a chair in the corner.

Richard turned to him quickly, having not noticed him before. “You were right, James.”

“Thank you. At least someone around here’s capable of common human decency.” James looked at Richard for a moment. “Have you actually told her about the bet?”

“Not yet. Tonight.”

“Good man. I’m glad you came around.”

Jeremy interjected, “Hang on, I thought you were afraid for the safety of your gentleman’s area if you told her?”

“I’d rather she know the truth and hate me for it.” Richard’s face fell. “I don’t think the news is going to be well received, honestly, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to keep it from her.”

“Well,” said James, “whatever happens, just know you’re doing the right thing. And I’m proud of you.”

“Eeeeugh, James, you’ve gone all soppy, man!” Jeremy whinged.

“You could support him, you know,” James spat.

“I could, but I won’t, because _I won_. Come on you two, best get to the hangar before Wilman starts screaming bloody murder.” Jeremy flounced out the door.

James looked at Richard. “You really do like her, don’t you?”

“I really do.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope she’s the forgiving sort.”

Richard sighed. “I rather doubt it.”

*******

It was about eight by the time Richard showed up at Lex’s flat. He’d texted earlier in the day to ask if he could stop by, and she had been more than happy to allow it. She hopped up as soon as the buzzer went and pushed the button to unlock the downstairs door, then moved to her front door, opening it and leaning against the frame, listening to his footsteps coming up the stairs. She smiled as he came into view, reaching for him when he made it to the landing.

“Hello,” she whispered, slipping her arms around his waist beneath his jacket and looking at him expectantly.

She was surprised by the intensity of his kiss, but gave into it almost immediately. It wound on and on, and when Richard finally released her he sighed audibly and said, “Come on, let’s sit down, hm?”

Lex watched him as he moved to the sofa. There was something behind his eyes she hadn’t experienced before and his shoulders were sagging. It could just be fatigue, he’d been filming all day, but there was something sad about it. She wasn’t sure quite what to do, so she sat down next to him and was about to cuddle up, but he held her by her shoulders and squared off in front of her so they were looking at each other.

“Lex,” he began, “I owe you an apology.”

“Why?” She suddenly didn’t like where this was headed.

“Look, I need you to do me a favour, okay? I need you to hear me out from beginning to end, and when I’m finished you can say anything you need to say. Can you do that for me? Please?”

“O...kay?”

“Please, Lex.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t… I don’t even know how to start, to be honest.” He took a ragged breath and ran a hand through his hair, then looked at her—she stayed silent, as requested. “The night I met you—the night we ended up at your pub? Jeremy saw you first. He just happened to be facing the table you always sit at. Anyway, he’s always trying to make games out of things, and he proposed a wager. ‘Hundred quid if you can make her presentable enough to hang onto your arm at the wrap party.’

“I thought you were pretty enough—you just looked tired, you know? I guess I didn’t really expect to _like_ you or something. I didn’t think. Obviously I didn’t, I mean, even when James kept pointing out how completely wrong it was, I wouldn’t listen. But he kept saying ‘She’s a person’, and ‘How do you think she’s going to feel’ and the more time I spent with you the more… _real_ you became and the worse I felt and I thought about not telling you at all but then I realised I couldn’t do that, not to you, because what have you ever done to deserve that? You were just sitting there, minding your own business, and I blew in on a whim and upset your whole little world, and I know this thing started from the wrong place, and I wouldn’t blame you a bit if you never wanted to see me again, but I had to tell you because I couldn’t go on seeing you with it hanging over me. And I _do_ want to go on seeing you, because now that I know what a wonderfully beautiful odd duck you are, I don’t want to be without you.”

Richard had stopped to take a breath and was looking at her, obviously waiting for some sort of response, but she was too overwhelmed with his revelation to do more than stare at him. He started again. “I’m sorry, Lex. It was a horrible thing to do, and I feel awful about it.” He was met with more silence. “Lex? Say something. Anything. Please.”

Lex looked at him for what felt like the longest minute of her life, and then quietly stood up and walked to the back of the flat, shutting her bedroom door behind her. She sat down, resting her head on the solid wood of the door, staring at the floor in front of her, completely numb. She heard Richard’s footsteps come down the hall. Heard him say her name, quietly. Heard him place a hand on the door, run his fingers down the wood. Heard him walk away and close the front door behind himself.

She sat there on her knees on the floor, forehead against the door, until her feet started to tingle and brought her back to full awareness. Lex stood up to allow the circulation to her legs to return to normal and found herself face to face with the pair of jeans she’d worn on Saturday, which were on the hook behind the door waiting to be washed. Suddenly remembering it was there, she pulled her fortune from Saturday’s cookie from her pocket and read it once more: ‘You never know unless you try.’

“Well, now I guess we know.”

Lex pulled on her steel-toed boots and went to work.

*******

Friday afternoon rolled around and found Lex in The White Hart, chin in hand, rotating her third empty glass on the top of her table. She hadn’t been home since Wednesday night. Work was the only thing that made sense right now, but she knew she’d better get out of there when she nearly tore a strip off Jess, one of the stage management interns, who she usually adored by virtue of the fact that the kid had a head on her shoulders and her feet on the ground.

Lex was sullenly trying to decide if she wanted to drag her sorry carcass home now or after another drink when Nina thumped down in the chair next to her.

“Jess said you stopped yourself short of giving her a right bollocking.”

Lex dropped her head onto the table. “I know, I know. It wasn’t her fault, bless her, I just… had a moment. I apologised, I swear, but I’ll do a better one on Monday.”

“Don’t worry, she’s all right. Worried about you, but all right.”

“Why should she be worried about me?”

“Gee, Lex, I have no idea. Maybe because she likes you, and according to Ralphie you’ve not left the theatre since nine o’clock on Wednesday night, and it is now,” Nina checked her watch pointedly, “half past four on Friday?”

“‘M not in the theatre now.”

“No. You left it forty-five minutes ago, right after you nearly shouted at Jess.”

“And subsequently apologised!”

“And subsequently apologised.” Nina laid her head down on the table so they were eye to eye. “Now, are you going to tell me what the fuck your problem is like you’re supposed to do with your best friend, or are you going to sit here and wallow?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I don’t think I need to give you three guesses.”

Lex heaved herself upright. “I was a bet. A fucking _bet_.”

“Context, please?”

Lex gave Nina context in great detail and with an abundance of choice language. Nina heard her out silently and when Lex was done she leaned over and wrapped an arm around her, pulling Lex’s head down to rest on her shoulder.

“Well, the way I see it—”

“What do you mean, ‘The way I see it’? There’s only one way to see it! Some best friend you are. You’re supposed to listen to my tale of woe, curse the bastard, and then take me out and get me clattered while at the same time keeping all the sleazy men away! Of course, considering it’s me, you’d have an easy time of it because they never notice me anyway, but that’s not the point. The point is I was an idiot and you’re supposed to be making me feel better.”

Nina gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Are you finished?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. The way I see it, we’ve made a discovery.”

“What’s that, then?”

“Well, I always thought that there were two sorts of men, right? The nice ones, and the bastards.”

Lex snorted. “There _are_ only those sorts. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference, apparently.”

“Well, see, that’s where we’ve made the discovery. Your Mr. Hammond is something of a hybrid.”

“He is _not_ ‘my Mr. Hammond’.”

“Ah, but I think he is. Hear me out. He did a shit thing. There’s no denying that. It was contemptible and I’ll clock him one for it when I meet him. So far, he’s a bastard, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, now here’s where it takes a turn. I know that a true, textbook bastard would never have thought twice about taking the bet, winning it, and then disappearing when everything was over.” Nina shifted a bit so that she could look into Lex’s eyes. “And a nice man would never have done it in the first place. Right?”

“Right.”

“So what we’ve got is someone who made a bad decision, realised it, and tried to make it right. You’ve got to give him credit for that, Lexie. I know it doesn’t feel nice from where you’re sitting, and you don’t have to forgive him, but you do need to acknowledge that he was man enough to own up, and that he did it of his own free will out of a desire to do right by you.”

“What does all this make me, then?” Lex asked in a small voice. “I’m just the idiot who was stupid enough to believe him.”

“It’s not wrong to trust people, you know. You don’t know if you can until you do, and then you find out their true colours. I’m not defending him, but I’m not condemning him either. Ultimately, you’re going to do what you feel is best for you, and there’s nothing I can say or do to force you one way or the other—I’ve known you long enough to know that’s completely futile.” Nina laughed and ruffled Lex’s hair. “ _But_ , I’ll tell you what; tonight I’ll bring around some dresses—you remember Karen, my friend who works for Coast? She owes me a favour, and if I’m quick I should be able to catch her while she’s still somewhere she can get hold of a few things. We’ll pick one for you and you can hang onto it, and if you decide that you can give him another go you’ll have something to wear to the Dorchester tomorrow. Okay?”

“You really want me to overlook this, don’t you.”

“Oh, fuck no, sweetheart. I want you to give him the ticking-off that he deserves. I want you to tell him in no uncertain terms that he royally fucked up, that he hurt you, and that if he wants the thing between the two of you to have a future _at all_ he’d better get his shit together. But I also want you to be happy, and I think he makes you happy—I mean, you were fucking _glowing_ on Monday—and I think you should entertain the thought of giving him another shot.”

“Neens?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a right bitch.”

“I know.”

“Neens?”

“Yes?”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too. Now go home, fucker, because if I hear that you’ve set foot back inside the theatre _at all_ for the rest of the day, I’ll throw you into the river.”

*******

After the Wednesday filming at Dunsfold, Richard had been at a loose end. He’d purposely taken the rest of the week off just to have some time to sort out all the things that stacked up during series production, but after his complete failure of an apology to Lex on Wednesday night he’d ignored the necessaries and spent the entirety of Thursday concentrating on either running like a madman, cycling like a madman, or driving one of his cars or motorcycles like a madman.

On Friday morning he was forced to go out to pick up a bit of shopping. As he fired up the Rover for the return trip, the radio blared on (he’d had it egregiously loud to drown out his treacherous brain and its endless stream of castigations,) and after a few seconds Chrissie Hynde was singing to him.

_I play a good game_   
_But not as good as you_   
_I can be a little cold_   
_But you can be so cruel_   
_I'm not made of brick_   
_I'm not made of stone_   
_But I had you fooled enough to take me on_   
_If love was a war_   
_It's you who has won_   
_While I was confessing it_   
_You held your tongue_   
_Now the damage is done_

_Well there's blood in these veins_   
_And I cry when in pain_   
_I'm only human on the inside_   
_And if looks could deceive_   
_Make it hard to believe_   
_I'm only human on the inside_

_I thought you'd come through_   
_I thought you'd come clean_   
_You were the best thing I should never have seen_   
_But you go to extremes_   
_You push me too far_   
_Then you keep going ‘til you break my heart_   
_Yeah, you break my heart_

_See I bleed and I bruise_   
_Oh, but what's it to you_   
_I'm only human on the inside_   
_And if looks could deceive_   
_Make it hard to believe_   
_I'm only human on the inside_   
_I crash and I burn_   
_Maybe someday you'll learn_   
_I'm only human on the inside_   
_I stumble I fall_   
_Baby, under it all_   
_I'm only human on the inside..._

As the final refrain faded away and the Radio One DJ started into his spiel, Richard huffed a hollow laugh. The universe had just spelled it out for him in black and white; he’d willfully disregarded Lex’s humanity and by the time he forced himself to acknowledge it, the whole situation was too far gone to repair. It had been pointless and stupid and he doubted he’d ever forgive himself for it. In his mind’s eye he saw her face, closed off and unreadable, saw her walking silently away from him. That was his doing. He shook his head violently and realised he should probably get a move on because for the duration of the song he’d been sitting in his parking space, clenching the steering wheel and staring at the top of the dashboard, and a gaggle of little old ladies had started to look at him peculiarly from the pavement. He heaved a sigh, ran a hand through his hair, and pulled away.

He put everything away as quickly as possible when he got back to his flat and went out for a  thoroughly circuitous and exhausting run in an attempt to wear himself out. When he finally dragged himself back home, he saw a text on his mobile from James.

‘Taking the Honda apart again, could use a hand. Bring beer.’

_Better than sitting here on your arse, Hammond._ He shot back an affirmative and set to sorting himself out.

When he showed up at James’ house he let himself in, putting the beers in the fridge and trotting out the back door, scritching Fusker’s ears and depositing his coat on a chair as he went. He found James in the garage, elbow-deep in bits of motorcycle, humming happily to himself.

“Beer’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” James said without looking up, and passed Richard a screwdriver.

Richard took the proffered tool and started working. This was something the two of them did from time to time, taking something apart and putting it back together. Silent companionship. They kept at it for several hours, until James stood up, bones clicking, and groaned, “Enough of this, don’t you think?”

Richard sat back on his heels from where he’d been knelt over the back end of the Honda. “Yeah, I think so.”

They went into the house, taking it in turns at the kitchen sink to wash away the oil and grease and dirt from their work. James snagged two beers from the fridge and they moved into the lounge, Richard sprawling on the sofa, James settling into the armchair. They were shortly joined by Fusker, who hopped onto Richard’s chest and curled up, staring him straight in the face and purring.

Richard scritched the cat’s whiskers. “He’s awfully affectionate today.”

“That’s the beauty of him. Ninety percent of the time he’s completely aloof, but he seems to know when you really need it.”

Richard didn’t say anything, just kept petting the cat, who leaned into the touch, purring louder.

“I take it it didn’t go well with her, then?” James asked gently.

“No,” Richard said.

James was quiet for a moment, watching his friend. He wouldn’t say ‘I told you so’, even though it might be warranted. “You did the right thing. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“She didn’t even say anything, James.” Richard looked at him over Fusker’s head. “I couldn't believe it. She just… walked away. Without a _word_. I mean, at least if she’d got angry, shouted at me, hell, took a swing at me, I’d know what to do with all this, but she didn’t.”

James winced a bit at this. “That surprises me. I mean, I only saw her the once, but she didn’t impress me as the kind of person to take something like that—” He stopped himself just short of saying ‘lying down’. “Erm, quietly.”

Richard sighed, and Fusker moved his head underneath Richard’s chin, nuzzling at his neck. “I’m a bastard.”

“I can’t argue with that,” James said. “But ultimately you were a well-intentioned one, and in my book at least that counts for something.” He stood up and collected their now empty bottles. “Shall we order in?”

*******

It was six o’clock on Saturday morning. Lex, of course, hadn’t slept worth a damn the night before. Nina had been over with the promised wardrobe—her friend Karen hadn’t disappointed. Nina had had her in and out of what felt like several thousand dresses and twice that many pairs of shoes and hadn’t let up until Lex had practically begged her to stop. They’d settled on a black sheath dress: straps (because Lex was damned if she was going to be yanking up a strapless thing all night), sweetheart neckline, knee length with a slit that went halfway up the front of one thigh. Surprisingly, it was the _least_ daring dress Nina had brought for Lex to try. They’d paired it with a pair of black peep-toe heels with a retro flair, t-straps and cutouts—not excessively high, since Lex wasn’t confident in her ability to stay upright in anything too tall.

The dress was hanging on Lex’s bedroom door, and Nina’s parting words were hanging over Lex’s head. “After all this fuss I’m going to be really annoyed if you decide not to give him another chance, but it’s up to you. You’re the only one who can make you happy.”

Where to even begin? In the last few days she’d been happier than she’d been in ages, only to have it suddenly shattered—and by the source of the joy, no less. Her emotions were all over the place at this point, but she needed to sort them out if she was going to have any kind of closure. _Make a list, Adams. That’s how you live the rest of your life, might as well apply it here, too._ She decided to start with the ‘againsts’.

_Against: The fact that he would willfully go along with something so crude as a bet that had a direct impact on someone else’s life. The enormous breach of trust inherent in doing so. The aftermath, which pushed you further down into your own deep, dark pit of introspection and self hatred, because if it hadn’t been for that fucking bet he wouldn’t even have noticed you because you’re not worth noticing._ She thought for a moment, wracking her brain for some other indiscretion Richard had committed, but found that that pretty much summed it up.

_For: Even before he came clean he seemed to be invested—in_ you _no less. He told you the truth of his own free will even though he had to know that the outcome probably wouldn’t be in his favour._ Lex stopped for a moment, not really wanting to acknowledge the next ‘for’ because it was just too raw, but she knew she had to. _Once he found out where your head was at, he really did want to chase the demons away for you, and you were willing to let him try._

She took a breath, held it, and let it out, tallying up her list. _Shit,_ she thought. _Of course it managed to come out an even split._ Lex tried her damnedest to think of something Richard had said or done which would tip the balance, but every ‘against’ she came up with had an accompanying ‘for’. Frustrated and back exactly where she started, Lex absentmindedly opened the packet of the last fortune cookie from her meal with Richard the Saturday before, breaking the cookie open and popping half of it into her mouth. She pulled out the fortune.

‘Forgiveness is the order of the day; remember, everyone makes mistakes.’

She stared. Read it again. Laughed, resigned. “Why am I taking life advice from a fucking _fortune cookie_?” she muttered as she picked up her phone and composed a text.

‘I got hold of a dress, if the offer still stands.’

She took another deep breath and hit ‘Send’. She let the breath out slowly, then put the phone down and was about to walk away when she heard the return ping.

‘I’ll pick you up at seven.’

_Oh. Well. Okay, then._ Lex walked down the hall to her bathroom and rummaged through the cupboard. She was pretty sure she had a box of sleeping tablets hanging around somewhere—there! Expired last month, but probably still fine. Closing the medicine cabinet, she caught her reflection staring back at her. _Somehow he doesn’t see what you see. There was no hesitation in his answer. You’re just going to have to take a leap of faith on this one._ She shook out a tablet from the box and swallowed it dry, setting an alarm on her phone for four o’clock, figuring three hours was plenty long enough to get ready. She fell into bed, snuggled up under the duvet, and breathed as deeply as she knew how until she felt herself slipping towards sleep.

*******

Richard pulled up in front of Lex’s building at five minutes to seven. He’d driven the 911 for a change, thought it better suited to a more formal event. He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment, holding a breath, and then let both go forcefully, reaching up to run a hand through his hair but stopping himself just shy of it, remembering how much gunk he’d put in it in an attempt to keep it artfully disheveled for the duration of the evening. He sighed. _She reached out to_ you _, Hammond. Get your arse up those stairs._ He heaved himself out of the car and started walking. There was no response to his first buzz, so he waited a second or two and tried again. He was about to pull out his phone to call her, see if she’d changed her mind, when he heard the click of the locking mechanism. _Thank God for that._

Richard reached the top of the stairs to find Lex’s front door ajar so he let himself in. There was shuffling coming from the bedroom end of the hall.

“Lex?”

The shuffling stopped.

“Yeah?” It was barely audible.

“You going to come out?”

There were a few seconds of silence, and then Lex appeared around the bedroom door. The dress fit perfectly, accentuating the contours of her body while still leaving something to the imagination. The shoes were just high enough to emphasize the musculature of her legs, the peep-toe offering a glimpse of burgundy nail varnish. Her hair was mostly down—pulled back softly from her face and falling long from there. Richard had never seen her face looking as rested as it did now, and the modest amount of makeup she’d applied simply enhanced her delicate features rather than overpowering them.

“Look at you,” Richard said, awed.

“I’d sooner no one did,” Lex replied, looking at the floor.

“Hey.” He moved toward her, reaching out, but suddenly his wrist was caught in a vise-like grip and her eyes were boring into his, steely and determined.

“You are an _unmitigated_ bastard, Richard Hammond.” Lex stared him down.

“I know, Lex. I’m sorry. You’ve every right to be completely livid with me.”

“Oh, I know I have.” Her voice gentled, but her hold on his wrist stayed firm. “But somehow the idea of beating you to a bloody pulp is less than enticing.” She leaned against the wall in the hall, closing her eyes. “I mean, I was plenty angry with you. _Plenty._ But mostly I was angry at myself for allowing you to get close enough to hurt me. And you certainly did that. You know, after you left on Wednesday I went into work and didn’t leave again until yesterday afternoon? Worked straight through until I nearly bit the head off one of my favourite interns, and then I retreated to the pub in an attempt to drink myself into oblivion. Didn’t succeed at that. My best friend stopped by and offered me an alternative perspective. Her thought was that yes, you’d done an awful, hurtful thing, but somewhere along the line you’d realised your mistake and you tried to make it right. She said I should at least give you credit for that.” Lex opened her eyes and released his wrist. “She also said that regardless, she’s going to clock you one when she meets you, so you’ve been warned.”

“I promise I’ll take it on the chin. I’ve earned it.”

“You won’t get any argument from me on that front.” Lex gave him half a smile. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, she hits like a girl. Between her and me, I’m the one you have to watch out for.”

Richard rubbed the wrist she’d held, wincing theatrically and giving it a shake. “I’ve noticed.”

Lex threw a soft jab at him. He immediately pulled his fists up into a boxer’s guard at his temples and slipped side to side, grinning, as she shadowboxed him back towards the front door. He bumped into the wall and Lex stood right up in front of him, pinning him there with her eyes. She poked him in the chest with each word as she said, “Don’t. Fuck. It. Up. Again. Right now I trust you about as far as I could throw you, and I’m still not completely convinced this is a good idea, _so you’d fucking well better be prepared to prove me wrong._ Understood?”

She stood her ground in front of him, her hands now in fists at her sides. If it weren’t for the welling up of her eyes he might have thought it better to be a bit more wary, but he could tell she was near an emotional breaking point, knew that he had put her there, and that he needed to make it right. Richard reached out tentatively to settle his hands at her waist, and when she didn’t move away he pulled her into him gently. She wound her arms around his neck as he rested their foreheads together. “I will do my level best to deserve you, Lex.”

“See that you do.”

He answered that with a kiss.

*******

The party had started at seven, so when Lex and Richard wandered from the Dorchester’s main lobby towards Holford Room at half past, they were fashionably on time. The closer they got to the door, the further behind Richard Lex trailed, until she just stopped completely. He turned around to find her with her eyes closed, breathing deeply. He put his hands on her shoulders and quietly said, “Hey.”

Lex opened her eyes and looked up at him through her lashes.

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about, duck. They’re a lovely bunch of people.” She didn’t seem convinced, so he asked, “Will you give it a try, just for me? I promise if it’s too much, we’ll leave.”

Lex closed her eyes again, took another breath, and said, “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

As they walked through the doorway, Lex put an arm out to stop Richard, looking at his shoes. “Yours are taller than mine, you wanker!” she squeaked under her breath.

“You weren’t supposed to notice!” he hissed back, grinning, steering her towards the bar.

Drinks procured, they were about to find somewhere to sit when James sidled up. “Ah, Hammond, you’re wearing those alligator atrocities I see. Didn’t the two of you negotiate maximum footwear height ahead of time?”

“Fuck off, May,” Richard said cheerfully. “Lex, James. James, Lex.”

Lex and James engaged in the appropriate how-do-you-dos. For the next half hour or so the three of them chatted and bantered and other people rotated in and out of the conversation as they arrived or sought out a fresh drink, and by and by, Lex’s death-grip on Richard’s hand eased off until it was just their little fingers linked together. Eventually, a Clarkson bellow came across the room. “Hammond! Iain just took Pagani’s name in vain. You’d better get over here and defend his honour.”

“Oh, that is _not_ on!” Richard took a step in the direction of the offender but turned around abruptly and said to Lex, “Will you be all right if I…?”

She smiled and replied, “Go on, then. I can hold my own.”

Richard kissed Lex’s cheek and pointed at James. “Best behaviour, old man.”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response,” James huffed.

Richard bounded off and James ushered Lex towards a pair of plush club chairs with a tiny table between them. Once they were settled, James said, “I told him from the start it was a cruel thing to do, but he had to come to that conclusion in his own time. The fact that you’ve forgiven him says something very nice about you, though.”

Lex raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he’s on notice, and he’s well aware. He’ll be toeing the line for a long while yet.”

“Good on you for making him work for it.” James chuckled. “Any chance you’re planning to take a swing at Clarkson? It was his stupid idea in the first place.”

“Probably best if I stay at the opposite end of the room from him. Just in case.”

James held up his glass to her in a mock toast, and they laughed. The two of them settled into an easy conversation, and after a while, when he came over to say hello, James introduced her to the show’s lighting director and left her in the middle of a spirited argument about lighting around media projection which was becoming increasingly popular in both film and theatre. James caught Richard’s eye as the younger man made his way across the room and they met in the middle.

“How’s she holding up? Sorry, I didn’t mean to abandon you both for that long.” Richard said.

“She’s fine. She was tearing a strip off Paul when I left her just now.” They shared a smile. “I’m glad it worked out. Now just don’t make a dog’s breakfast of it.”

“Tosser.”

“Stuff it,” James said amiably. “Out of curiosity, what was the underlying problem?”

“What?”

“When you told Clarkson you were forfeiting you said something about ‘realising that people are the way they are for a reason’, and ‘not jeopardising her peace of mind’.”

Richard shook his head. “At some point she learned to hate what she sees in the mirror. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but there’s time to figure it out.”

“Sadly far too common a problem if you ask me,” James said. “I don’t suppose you’d help me hide the body after I kill Clarkson?”

“It’s going to be a race to his throat, May.” Richard grinned and moved off to find Lex.

The party wound on and on. Several hours and at least as many drinks later, Jeremy sidled up to Richard and silently handed him three one-hundred-pound notes.

“What’s this for, then?” Richard asked.

“One is your hundred back. The second I’m giving you because you won.”

“And the third?”

“The third is for that _arse!_ ” Jeremy was leering at Lex, who was about ten feet away chatting to Andy.

Richard stepped in front of Jeremy then, snapping his fingers and pointing at himself. “Eyes on me, Clarkson.” Jeremy, pickled as he was, could still recognize the no-nonsense tone Richard had adopted, and he focused on the man in front of him. Richard held up the notes. “I will accept my hundred back,” he said, pocketing one of the hundreds, “but if you make _one more crass remark_ or take _one more lecherous look_ at her, I will end you. Here and now. Are we understood?”

Jeremy’s grin was attempting to wrap itself around his entire head. “Excellent. Perfect. That’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

“What the _fuck_ are you on about, Clarkson? I tell you I’m going to murder you in cold blood if you keep objectifying my girlfriend, and you say ‘perfect’?”

“Oooh, and you used the g-word as well!” At this point Richard started to wind up to take a swing at Jeremy, but the big man put his hands on Richard’s shoulders to stay him. “Relax, Hammond, for fuck’s sake. I only made this bloody bet with you to pull you out of your miserable lonely rut, and I have to say, even for one of my cunning plans, it’s worked better than I ever expected it to.”

Richard blinked. “...What?”

“If you ever repeat this to a living soul, I will drive your Morgan into the sea,” Jeremy said seriously. “You and James are the best friends I’ve ever had—I’d go so far as to say even better than Wilman—and you know I’d do anything in my power to ensure your happiness.

“After your last relationship ended and you were back to mostly-normal, I tried all sorts of things to get you to try again, because you were so completely convinced that you would never find anyone and it wasn’t worth trying. I tried being generally encouraging, I tried taking you places _crawling_ with women to see if I could goad you into at least talking to some of them, hell, I even tried _setting you up_ , but none of it worked. You just kept your head down and your eyes forward and persisted in being a gloomy bastard. I hated seeing you like that, and more than that, it was getting _incredibly_ irritating.” Richard started to bristle at that, but Jeremy held up a hand at him and he stifled the cutting remark on the tip of his tongue. Jeremy continued, “I was at my wits’ end, until it came to me out of the blue. I thought, ‘What’s the most surefire way you know to get Hammond to do something he’s not keen on doing?’ The answer was obvious. ‘Tell him he can’t’.”

Richard stared at him for a long moment. “That is the most underhanded good deed I’ve ever experienced in the whole of my life. You do realise that she actually _did_ get hurt in the process of all this? And I know I had a big hand in it, but some of the blame for that absolutely lies with you.”

Jeremy scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. “I know. I’m not exactly proud of it at the end of the day. When I saw the whole thing slipping away from you I kept twisting the knife to make you keep trying.”

“I suppose I should be grateful on some level.” Richard sighed. “Just promise me you won’t apply any more of your cunning plans to my love life, all right?”

Jeremy smiled. “I’d like to think I won’t have to.”

Richard glanced over at Lex. “I’d like to think that, too.” He grabbed Jeremy’s wrist, placing the remaining two hundred-pound notes into his palm before turning and walking over to Lex and Andy, sliding an arm around Lex’s waist. “Sorry, Wilman, I’m going to have to steal her back now.”

Andy, who’d had rather a few at this point, swayed a bit on his feet and said, “Oh, fine, whatever you like,” before wandering circuitously away. Lex and Richard laughed as he went, nearly doubling over when he bumped into a potted plant and then apologised to it.

‘Does he always get this legless at these?”

“Only when someone else is footing the bar tab.” Richard steered her towards the door. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Lex asked.

“Our room.”

“That was an awfully big assumption on your part.”

“Well, if you hadn't forgiven me I was planning on getting rat-arsed and then forcing room service to cure my hangover.”

Richard stopped at reception, collecting the key with the usual paperwork and pleasantries from the lady at the desk, and then they walked around the corner to the elevators.

“I wish you’d said something when you picked me up, I’d have packed a bag.”

The elevator doors closed behind them and Richard dropped his hand from Lex’s waist to the gentle curve of her bottom and turned her to face him. “You don’t need a bag, duck. I’m not planning on you wearing much of anything but the feathers you were hatched in until check-out.”

“Still have to do the waddle of shame when I get home tomorrow morning, though.” Lex grinned.

“I’ll make sure to point that out to all your neighbours.”

“Bastard,” Lex said, and tilted her head up, nosing at Richard’s chin.

He brought their mouths together and murmured into the kiss, “Yes. But I’m _your_ bastard.”

**~~~**


End file.
